When Truth Comes Knocking
by ddgorgeous
Summary: What if Derek was never arrested nine years ago in Chicago and the secrets of his childhood still unknown to his family and friends? What happens when the ghosts of his past resurface and threaten everything he holds dear? How will he handle the pain and guilt when his secrets come to light?
1. Chapter 1

_"Come on, just relax! You'll get used to it."_

 _He wanted to run but there was nowhere to run. No way out of the cabin. He'd looked forward to the weekend in the woods far away from the crowded streets of Chicago. He felt special. Carl had picked him amongst dozens of other boys. There were promises…there was a price._

 _"Take a sip…more…that's it...see…you like it don't you? Don't worry it will be our secret…I love you Derek…just relax…"_

Derek jerked awake, breathing hard his heart pounding out of control. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom turning on the shower running the water until it was scalding hot. Stripping out of his shorts and t-shirt he stepped under the harsh stream of water. It hurt…burned…he needed to feel the heat, the unbearable pain…he could barely breath through the steam but he didn't care. He felt filthy…skin scrubbed raw…still he was dirty even though his skin was now red from scrubbing…he felt…dirty.

 **BAU Headquarters- Quantico, VA – Morning –**

She was the first to notice how bad he looked. She also noticed that he avoided her stare as he took his usual seat next to her. He hadn't shaved and the dark circles under his eyes told her he hadn't slept either. She was worried.

"Denver is asking for our help in a serial murder case." Hotch began.

"I didn't get anything…" Penelope started.

"The lead detective called me directly. We both went through the academy together and he started out in counter terrorism until Denver made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

Morgan opened the case file in front of him. He was startled at the picture of a young woman. She had been raped and beaten and left like garbage on the side of the road. Her killer didn't care if she was found, there was no remorse and her eyes stare wide open accusingly at Morgan. It rocked him and he blinked. He never blinked but this time…this time this woman, dead, and cold…seemed to bore a hole into him. Her eyes shouted accusations that he couldn't ignore.

"This unsub is mocking us."

"How do you know?"

Reid picked up the picture to examine it closer for a clue to Morgan's statement.

"Look at her. She's lying on her back, she's spread eagle and she's close to the road where she'd be easy to find. This unsub doesn't care if we find her…he wants us to find her."

The room was silent after that. JJ traded looks with Garcia then Rossi and Reid. Hotch pretended not to notice. His agent was spot on in his assessment but something was still off. He seemed preoccupied and had barely acknowledged anyone in the room. Hotch made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

"There's a lot of rage here." Rossi chimed in.

"He took his time with her…" JJ noted.

"He enjoyed it."

Again the team looked at Morgan. He seemed intent on staring back at the woman in the picture. Garcia placed her hand on his knee. He jumped then caught himself and shot her a half smile that never reached his eyes.

"Our first victim…" Hotch began.

"Victoria Benson."

"Excuse me?"

"Her name is Victoria Benson."

Hotch fixed his glare on Morgan who still had not looked up. It was uncomfortably silent in the room now.

"Our first victim…Victoria Benson is twenty-two years old and a graduate student at Colorado State. She was reported missing by her boyfriend on Friday morning when she didn't come home after a step class on campus Thursday night."

"The locals thought it was just some domestic issue and blew it off." Reid added.

"Figures." Morgan chimed in.

Hotch had had enough the others knew that at any moment he'd react.

"Morgan?"

Slowly Morgan lifted his head.

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"Maybe you should sit this one out."

"No way, Hotch! I'm working this case!"

"If you're having some problems, I'd be more than happy to let you stay behind."

"No. I'm fine. I just don't want these victims treated like their numbers. They're people and we need to remember that."

"And we will."

Morgan resumed his study of the case file as if the exchange had never happened. Garcia quietly leaned in to get his attention.

"Derek?" She whispered.

"Not now, Garcia." He interrupted.

"Our second victim is Amber Watts, nineteen, also a student at Colorado State. Her body was found a mile from our first vic…Victoria Benson."

"Same M.O. This unsub doesn't have much of a cooling off period." Said JJ. "The women were found a day apart."

"We need to make sure we stop him before another body is found. Wheels up in thirty."

Everyone rushed to their feet and gathered their things and headed out of the conference room. None of them wanted to witness the impending showdown between Hotch and Morgan.

"Morgan I need to speak with you."

Garcia shot her friend a sympathetic look and hurried from the room behind the others. Morgan stood defiantly facing Hotch waiting for what he knew was coming.

"I'm fine Hotch. I'm sorry I was out of line. I just don't want us to lose sight of the fact that these women were innocent. They did nothing to deserve this."

"Morgan we do this everyday and we never lose sight of that fact. What's really going on? You don't seem yourself. I've been noticing it for the last several days. I didn't say anything because I thought you'd work through it."

"Really Hotch, I'm fine. Just tired that's all."

"If you need to talk…time off…anything…"

"Let's just go get this bastard."

Hotch didn't believe he was alright at all. He nodded dismissing him and he followed him out toward the elevators. Just as Morgan and Hotch reached the elevators Morgan's cell phone rang. He was surprised to see the name flashing across his screen. It had been a while since they'd spoken; not since he'd gone to Chicago to attend his high school graduation three years ago. Morgan waived the team off and stepped back into the hallway for a little privacy.

"James. How's it going, man? Long time…"

"Yeah. Three years."

"Listen man, I should have done better keeping in touch."

Derek began to fidget shifting from one foot to the other.

"No worries. I know you're busy being a big time F.B.I agent." He teased.

"Well, it's good to hear from you."

Suddenly the line went silent and Morgan knew instantly that something was wrong. The elevator, now empty opened and he stepped inside pushing the button for the garage. The line was still silent; James hadn't said another word.

"James?"

The elevator pinged and Morgan stepped out into the garage. The others were loaded in two SUV's and waiting for him.

"Talk to me man…"

"MORGAN, LET'S GO!" JJ yelled.

He picked up his pace and waved to the others.

"Derek…I need to talk to you about something, man."

"James, what's going on? Is it your mom?"

"No, no it's not my mom. She's fine."

"Your sister?"

"She's fine too."

"MORGAN!"

"Look, James…I'm headed out now but I'll call you when I land, okay? We'll talk then."

There was a brief pause before James responded.

"Yeah…later…we'll talk later. Goodbye, Derek."

Then the line went dead. Morgan couldn't deny the desperate sound in the young man's voice. He'd always promised that he would be there for James if he ever needed to talk. Now was that time and Morgan wasn't there…not really.

"James…James…"

Morgan pocketed his phone and jumped into the SUV with JJ, and Reid. He couldn't help but notice their questioning stares but thankfully they didn't badger him for answers. So without another word, Morgan started the engine and headed out of the garage behind the SUV carrying Hotch and Rossi.

 _"Come on, just relax! You'll get used to it._

 _Don't worry it will be our secret…I love you Derek…just relax…_

 _Our secret…our secret…our secret…"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Denver, CO Police Dept. – Afternoon –**

Another body had been discovered before the team arrived. Hotch sent Morgan and Rossi to the crime scene while the rest of the team headed to the precinct. Like the other two victims Joy Bergen, a nineteen year-old student at Colorado State was found a mile from the second victim. The young woman's body was left like the others, nude, badly beaten and lying on her back arms and legs splayed open; again, no remorse with every effort made to humiliate the woman in death.

Rossi kept a close eye on Morgan watching how he struggled with his emotions as he examined the body. He pretended not to be affected but he was smart enough to know that Hotch had paired him with Rossi for a reason. Rossi was smart enough to know that his younger friend wasn't fooled.

"What's your take on this?" Rossi began.

"This unsub is pissed. Someone probably humiliated him. Maybe ridiculed him for some sexual shortcoming."

"Wife maybe? Girlfriend?"

"No I don't even think things got that far. I think he had some unrealistic fantasy about someone and it didn't work out."

"Like a celebrity crush?"

"Exactly."

"Now I know why you're the expert on obsessional crimes."

Morgan walked away to examine the area near the victim. He didn't respond to Rossi's compliment. He hadn't even heard him; his mind a million miles away yet he was somehow able to do his job.

Morgan lightly touched the ground near the body. Closing his eyes he pretended he was the murderer and tried imagining a psychopath who would beat, rape and dump an innocent woman for all the world to see, taunting her for being the target of his rage. Then like a burst of energy, he saw Carl Buford smiling and breathing hot alcohol-tinged breath in his face. It was real and he was nearly knocked on his butt forcing him to open his eyes. His breathing had escalated to near panic attack levels and he suddenly realized that Dave was looking at him with worry and concern. His mind was racing wanting to disappear so as not to see the questions in the other man's face. He knew Dave would want to know what had scared him so.

"Let's get back."

That was it. Mercifully there were no questions and no voicing of concerns just a simple command to join the others at the precinct. When they arrived the rest of the team had assembled in a small conference room that the locals had set aside for them. Garcia had already found a connection between the women and had a strong lead on the killer. Morgan knew that Dave no doubt would report what he saw in him to Hotch the first chance he got. Weakness…that's what he saw. He saw a break in his armor and while Dave had remained silent he knew his boss would not.

"All three girls were students at Colorado State and lived in the same apartment complex near campus."

Garcia spoke excitedly across the laptop situated in the center of the round conference table.

"Did any of the girls know each other?"

Hotch had watched the withdrawn look on Morgan's face and the telltale look on Dave's face as the two agents joined them.

"Yes, the girls knew each other. All of them were a part of a social club called the Maidens of the Lily. It's a very old club founded by a Priscilla Abernathy fifty years ago in Abilene, Texas."

"Abilene, Texas? But we're in Denver that's a little wasy from Abilene." Morgan questioned.

"Yes it is. A daughter of one of the original members, a Josephine Smythe moved to Denver and started a chapter over twenty years ago."

"Garcia we need everything you can find on this Josephine Smythe."

"Already done my handsome genius."

Reid blushed at being called handsome. The others watched as his face turned a bright crimson.

"This club is for society's upper crust and when I say the parents of these girls are filthy rich…they're wallowing in it. Josephine Smythe is from old Texas oil money and our victims are all from wealthy Colorado families."

"Garcia I need a current list of all the members of the Maidens of the Lily." Hotch began.

"And we need to know where Josephine Smythe is Garcia." Morgan added.

"Done and done. I'm sending Mrs. Smythe's address to your tablets now."

"Thanks Baby Girl."

"No problem…Oh…"

"What's wrong?" JJ asked.

"Kara Smythe, Josephine Smythe's nineteen year old daughter is also a student at Colorado State."

"She could be our next victim." JJ added.

"Let's make sure she's not."

Hotch led the team out of the room. No one had said it but they all knew that if the unsub stayed to his pattern someone would go missing in less than twenty-four hours.

 **Chicago, IL – Home of James Barfield –**

He thought he'd left it all behind when he left for college three years ago. He'd literally boxed the pain and memories of his time with his mentor and shoved them in the cramped basement of his mother's home. He didn't want to talk to anyone about what had happened to him. He'd done the unspeakable; he'd allowed a man to do things to him in hopes that his life and the lives of his family would one day be better. So, now with less than a year left of college he found himself back home on spring break and nothing had really changed.

The memories of his youth flooded his mind and had nearly knocked the wind out of him as he passed the community center on his way home from the airport. His mother smiling next to him was so happy to have him home. She had no clue, none at all and he had to keep it that way. He needed to talk to someone but the only person that came to mind was Derek Morgan. He'd offered his card and his time when he was home to celebrate his mother's birthday several years ago. Derek was a local hero, one of the ones who had made it out but more importantly he had always been a friend to James. Desperate, he found the weathered, wrinkled card in his wallet, pulled it out and dialed the number. He counted the rings; one, two…then the click and the deep voice that he hadn't heard since his high school graduation. Derek was busy he could tell by his voice and the noise around him but Derek still wanted to find a way to talk to him. He failed and now James stood in the middle of the bedroom he'd shared with his older brother until he'd been sent to prison for the final time. Derek promised to call when he landed and he knew that he would, he always kept his word. James wasn't quite sure he had the strength to wait.

 _"Relax…drink this…more…that's it…just relax…see I know you like it, James…you like it a lot…don't worry it will be our secret…"_

 **Team Jet Two Days Later…Headed Home –**

Morgan found the furthest point from his team and took a seat. It had taken them two more days before finding the killer who'd brutally beaten, raped and discarded five innocent young women. There presence in Denver hadn't stopped him from adding two more to his body count.

Zeke Miller had been a man who'd wanted desperately to be someone he wasn't; handsome, wealthy and charming. No one especially women saw him that way. He was no more than a down-on-his-luck gambler who'd made the mistake of pursuing a wealthy socialite who'd shamelessly and publicly humiliated him sending him into a spiral that had dire consequences to five innocent women.

The thirty-five year old man was dead now. Morgan had put a bullet in his head when he refused to surrender. Morgan hadn't hesitated to go after the man once they'd confirmed his location. Hotch had been furious with him and his team had sided with their boss. He'd taken off on his own and entered the building without waiting for the rest of them. Now he knew that once they returned to Quantico, he'd have to answer for his actions.

For now though, Morgan had more pressing things on his mind and as he fiddled with his phone he worried about his young friend James Barfield. He'd been trying to reach him for days starting when the Jet had touched down in Denver. Each time there was no answer; his call always going to voicemail. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach as he tried to call again.

Hotch couldn't help but feel that his agent was in trouble. He kept his eyes focused on him as he made call after call on his cell phone. He wanted to talk to him but he knew most likely he'd shut down and Hotch didn't want to draw any more attention to the man who'd always been a rock. He very seldom showed any weakness or signs that the stress of what they did every day was getting the best of him. Not now; now he was cracking and he was hurting and he was too stubborn to ask for help.

"Hey Ma…"

She knew something was bothering him. She was his mother and she knew the sounds in his voice that told her he needed her.

"Baby Boy! This is a surprise."

"Yeah Ma, I know. I'm on my way back from a case in Denver and I just wanted to…to hear your voice."

"Well it's good to hear from you. So, did you catch the bad guys?" She chuckled.

"We always do. How are you and the girls?"

"We're all good. Desiree just got a promotion. She's manager of her division now. The youngest ever in her company!"

"That's good…real good."

"Okay, enough. What's wrong with my son?"

"Um…nothing Ma…I…"

He so desperately wanted to tell her, to unload the burden, which suddenly was making it hard to breathe.

"Derek? Talk to me Baby Boy."

"I've been trying to call James all week but I keep getting his voicemail."

"You know how young folks are. He's probably found himself a girlfriend or something."

"No, that's not it. He called me just before I left for this case and he said he needed to talk. I was supposed to call him back when we landed in Denver but he hasn't answered any of my calls."

"How about if I call his mother and let her know you've been trying to reach him and ask her to have him give you a call?"

Morgan relaxed in his chair feeling a slight relief. His mother always knew what he needed.

"That would be great. Thank you Ma."

"Any time, Baby. Now get some rest. I know you probably haven't eaten or rested since you've been gone."

"Okay, Ma. I'll talk to you soon."

 **BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA – 2 Hours later –**

Derek was exhausted and he could tell that the rest of the team was too. He wasn't normally paranoid but it seemed as if his teammates were a little distant. Perhaps they knew what was coming with Hotch and they didn't want to be anywhere near him until the dust settled.

"Morgan, I need to speak to you before you leave."

The others scattered like rats on a sinking ship.

"I'll be right up."

The ringing of his phone gave him some much needed space and a slight reprieve. Pulling it from his pocket he saw his mother's face on the screen.

"Ma! Did you find him?" He sounded desperate.

"Yes, Baby Boy I did."

"Where is he? Why hasn't he called me back?"

"Derek…"

"I told him that I'd call him when I landed…"

"Derek…"

"What?"

"James is dead."


	3. Chapter 3

The room seemed to spin out of control around him. JJ, Rossi and Reid looked puzzled as they headed toward their workspaces. He didn't remember closing his phone and slipping it back into his pocket and he didn't remember seeing his team mates rush over to him with looks of concern in their eyes. He looked up and met her eyes yet her presence didn't register in his brain.

Garcia's smile quickly dropped. He looked as if he didn't recognize her and she felt her heart still in her chest. It was more than the case; he'd seen worse. Whatever had knocked him off kilter the last few weeks had followed him back from Denver.

She descended the stairs barely speaking to Hotch as she passed him. She felt his stare as he stepped into his office but she didn't care. She'd watched the darkness and the tears swimming in Derek's eyes as she made her way to him. Even her light touch on his arm had no affect on him. So she waited until he found his way back from wherever he'd gone. He turned to face her, looking down at her hand resting on his arm then back to her face.

"Handsome?"

He tried to speak his lips were moving but he was still silent. His eyes focused again on her hand as she increased her grip on him.

"Talk to me."

He looked up and around the room and back at his friends who were now standing around him. So many questions, none of them knew how to ask so they waited, their silence sending him the message that they were there for him. Where would he begin? How would he ever explain that his world had just crumbled beneath him, held up for so many years on shaky legs of lies and denial? He couldn't…never…he wanted to run and to hide but suddenly he had no clue on how to get out of the room…the walls were closing in, the faces of his friends now seeming to intrude into his space…could they possibly see his cracks and broken pieces…he was a fraud, a fake…he'd made a deal with the devil so long ago both promising the other to remain silent.

"I need to go home…"

"Okay, okay…we'll go home."

She was terrified as the tears fell on his face in defiance of him. Carefully, not knowing what else to do, she placed her hand on his back causing him to slightly lean against her touch trembling and struggling to stay on his feet.

"I need to go home…now."

"Just let me get my purse…I'll drive you."

"No."

"But…you're not in any shape to drive, Handsome."

"I need to go home to Chicago…"

 **Chicago, Illinois – O'Hare Airport- Morning –**

Fran spotted her son near Baggage Claims. She rushed over to him as if she had the power to take away his pain just by her presence. She knew she couldn't but that's what mothers prayed for; magical powers to kiss away booboos and take away pain with big bear hugs. She knew it would take more than hugs and kisses to make this all better.

"There's my Baby Boy."

She opened her arms and gobbled him up hugging him tightly afraid to let him go. He wrapped his arms around her and allowed himself a moment to inhale grabbing what little strength he could from the woman who'd always known what to do and say to keep him holding on even if it was for a little while.

"Thanks for picking me up. I could have gotten a cab."

"Don't even think about it. Of course I'd pick you up."

Without another word he grabbed his luggage and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The two of them headed out of the airport both struggling in silence at the loss of a life gone too soon.

"I've got your room ready and your sisters will be over after they get off work."

She didn't know what else to say, so nervous chatter would have to do until he was ready to talk.

"How did it happen, Ma?"

"Gordinski said it was suicide…"

"Gordinski! Why is he involved with this?"

"Come on, Derek…"

"No, Ma…I don't want him on this! If it's a suicide…he's homicide…I don't understand…"

"I think he's just overlooking things as a favor for Mr. Buford; James was one of his boys…he's become quite a ball player you know. Folks say he's Mr. Buford's favorite…"

"Stop the car!"

He couldn't breathe…he needed air…he felt the sweat beads on his forehead…and his stomach…

"Baby?"

"Stop the car!"

She'd never seen him like this. He was heaving and sweating and clawing at the door. Quickly she pulled the car over and killed the engine. Derek slung the door open and jumped out of the car…then dropping to his knees. His insides wretched violently, once then twice as he lost his breakfast and lunch from the day before. He closed his eyes waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit him.

"Baby Boy!"

He jumped at her hand on his back. He felt like her little boy as she rubbed circles over his back. How could he tell her that he was sick…not with grief…not because he didn't like to fly…no, he was sick because he was guilty and ashamed…he was responsible for his young friend's decision to take his life. That's what his cowardice had done. He had killed James.

 **BAU Headquarters – Quantico, VA –**

Penelope sat quietly in the darkness of Derek's office. She often found herself here when he was away on a case. He promised to call her when he landed and got settled at his mother's. She'd offered to go with him but he insisted she stay. The thought of going home alone didn't appeal to her so she leaned her head against the leather chair and closed her eyes. Somehow she found comfort in the smell of his cologne that still hung in the air. So many things had happened in this office; things none of the others knew about…things that were secrets belonging to only the two of them. Now it had become her refuge, the place that held his essence that gave her a moment of reprieve before she headed home to the place they now shared.

She was always amazed at how immaculate he kept his office; everything in its place. It was the total opposite of his bedroom that was a disaster most times with half of his wardrobe scattered over the floor and bed. She'd often tease him accusing him of having two personalities…her chocolate Jekyll and Hyde she'd often say. So no one would think it strange when the pile of unopened mail sitting haphazardly on his desk caught her eye; sitting as if someone had carelessly tossed it without thinking or caring onto the desk. A green envelope in the middle of the stack caught her attention.

She couldn't help it her curiosity got the best of her and so she pulled it from the stack. She felt guilty but not enough to put it back where she found it. Flipping the envelope back and forth in her hand. It looked like a greeting card of sort. She didn't recognize the sender's name, a _Carl Buford_ from Chicago. Derek had never mentioned anyone by that name. Then flipping it over she noticed a two-word hand written message scribbled on the back flap.

 _"Happy Birthday."_

She frowned as she placed it back in the pile.

 _"Hmm…his birthday isn't until next week."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chicago Police Department –**

Derek stepped through the door of the busy precinct alone. It was striking how much smaller it was than what he remembered as a boy. He had insisted that his mother drop him at the police station before going home. He needed to find out and hear for himself the cause of James' death. He'd known the boy since James was a young boy and he'd never shown any signs that he would take his own life. But if Carl had done to James what he'd done to him…

"Derek?"

Morgan turned to face the man that had been a living nightmare for him in his youth. He'd aged…a lot and he'd gained at least twenty pounds, maybe more. He looked at the man's outstretched hand and declined choosing to not shake his hand. The next few moments were awkward.

"Gordinksi. My mother says you're handling the James Barfield case."

"Uh yeah but it's not really a case. The coroner ruled it a suicide."

"Was there a note?"

Gordinski shifted nervously. If he were a lesser man, he would have shuddered at the coldness in the man's voice. It was the first time the two had seen each other in almost fifteen years. Morgan noticed the apprehension in his eyes.

"Well? Was there a note?"

"James left a letter…it was addressed to you."

Now Morgan shifted not doing a very good job of hiding the fact that he was slightly off balance momentarily. His eyes followed Gordinski's hand as it reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of lined notebook paper. Without another word, the older detective handed the paper to him. The yellow paper felt like a brick in his hand. He felt himself straining against the weight of it or perhaps it was just the heaviness of the guilt and shame that he'd lugged around over the last years of his life. He thought he'd gotten used to it, barely noticing that it had caused his shoulders to round slightly as he walked. But he hadn't gotten used to it and now the weight of the letter in his hand nearly seemed to bring him to his knees.

"If you like you can use the conference room down the hall from my office."

Then the man who'd recently been promoted to captain disappeared in the same direction he'd come. Their history had left the older man at a loss for words of condolence or encouragement. So he simply walked away in haste not wanting to witness the impact the letter would have on Morgan.

 _Dear Derek,_

 _I'm sorry I couldn't wait to talk to you. It seems as if I've been waiting all of my life. Waiting for my father to come home. Waiting for my mother to stop crying at night when she thought we were all asleep. Waiting for my brother to assume the role of the man of the house and waiting for a miracle that would give my sister a new body._

 _I tried Derek…so hard I tried but I couldn't carry this weight anymore. I thought that my life would end on these streets just like so many others had. You were one of the lucky ones, Derek. You made it…all the way to the FBI. I watched you, in the newspapers…on the TV. You did it and for a moment I thought I could too._

 _Then I met Carl Buford. He chose me, told me I was special, that he could help me get out so that I could help my family get out too. He became my dad and for a little while I didn't miss my real dad any more. It was all lies and I was a fool to think things would ever change._

 _I can still feel his hands on me; five years later…I can feel him touching me just like it was the first time. His breath still feels like fire on my face and his voice whispering promises of more special times together still rings in my ears. I'm so alone…utterly and completely alone and there is no one who will listen, no one to talk to and no one who would believe me or care. No one but Carl…he says knows what I need and he follows me wherever I go; in my thoughts, in my dreams and in my nightmares._

 _All I want now is peace and quiet and rest. I know you won't understand what I've been through Derek but you were always a friend. Please don't be mad at me for what I've done… for letting Carl do those things to me and for choosing this way out. I want to go away where I'm really free._

 _Thank you for being my friend. All I ask now is that you forgive me._

 _James_

His hands began to shake uncontrollably and his throat seemed to seize and shut tight taking his breath away. The one brick that had become the unread letter now weighed a ton sitting on his chest sinking deeper and deeper into his flesh. He thought about running but his legs were too weak to support his weight and the ton of bricks. James' phone call pleading for a moment of his time now haunted him with the noise bouncing off of the walls.

Captain Stan Gordinski had kept a close eye on the man that had once been a troubled boy. The two shared an adversarial history that even now Derek held against him. He'd followed his career with the Chicago Police Department and then with the FBI; he was impressed to say the least. His opinion still hadn't changed believing that he was at the center of most of the commotion in the neighborhood when he was growing up. Still, he couldn't help but feel for him as he sat obviously affected by the letter now dangling and shaking in his hand. He wanted to say or do something but like his handshake earlier he knew it would be rejected. So he did the only thing he could and while keeping his eyes fixed, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed her number.

She'd made the twenty-minute drive in fifteen. Rushing through the crowded room she immediately found Gordiniski heading her way. She saw the concern in his eyes, which worried her since she was well aware of his history with her son. Still she appreciated his call.

"Where is he?"

"I-I don't know…"

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"He took off right after I called you."

"Did he say anything?"

"No he ran out of here like he was going to be sick or something. I tried to say something to him but he kept going like he didn't hear me."

Fran looked around the room expecting too see her son amongst the others milling around and working but he was nowhere in sight. He'd been acting unusually strange beyond the normal reactions of grief. She needed answers; answers she was certain he would not give her. So, she did the only thing she could do, she looked around the room again, then pulled her phone from her purse and dialed her number.

He stopped running not because he wanted to but because he needed to catch his breath. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten out of the precinct past Gordinski's prying eyes yet now here he was doubled over hands on his knees forcing air into his deprived lungs. His eyes were blurry with tears and his chest filled with pain and agony. He jumped at the sound of his cell phone buzzing and with a shaky hand he dug it from his pocket. He saw her face smiling on the screen and he dropped to his knees holding the phone tightly to his ear.

"Derek?"

All she could hear was his breathing and sobbing on the other end but no words in response.

"Handsome, your mother called me. Talk to me! Are you okay?"

"Baby Girl…" He moaned. "I can't breathe…"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter makes a strong reference to child abuse, so beware before reading any further. Thank you Karen LaManna for your late night help and encouragement with this chapter!**

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Garcia had prepared a speech within a matter of seconds. She had to convince Hotch to let her go to Chicago to see about Morgan. The call to him had left her rattled and she knew things were bad. Even his mother was beside herself with worry for her only son. As it turned out when Garcia poked her head into her boss' office, wide-eyed and out of breath her well-crafted speech was not needed. Hotch looked up from the file he'd been working on and uttered one simple word, _"go."_

The earliest flight to Chicago was in three hours and she breathed a sigh of relief as she booked the last available seat. Hurriedly, she threw some necessary items into a bag and drug the overstuffed carry-on toward the front door. Spencer had offered to take her to the airport and she had gladly accepted.

No one on the team knew that the two had made their relationship official and two months ago had decided to live together. Spencer's face had reflected the questions that had already formed in his mind when she told him to pick her up at Morgan's. It had been exciting at first having a secret that only she and Derek knew about but as time went on it became cumbersome and pointless. Still, they had not agreed on a time and manner in which to let their friends in on the news that really wasn't news to anyone who had watched the duo over the last eleven years.

Penelope checked her watch and made one last glance around the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Derek always made a habit of taking the trash out before leaving town. The Parkers next door had offered to take Clooney while she was gone so with her last few minutes she grabbed the trash bag and headed toward the backyard. As she lifted the lid of the large trash bin her eyes fell on a brightly colored card that seemed to have been ripped violently into several pieces. The purple and lavender drew her eyes closer and she bent down picking up the largest of the four pieces. She'd seen the handwriting earlier that morning. Curious, she unfolded the card and read it: _"I'll never forget your birthday, D."_

She felt oddly dirty and guilty as if she'd peeped into a room where she had not been invited and seeing something that wasn't meant for her eyes. Quickly she gathered the other three pieces and threw them into the trash along with the other garbage and closed the lid. Why would Derek not share this card with her and why was it in the trash? The writing was the same as the card that she'd found in his office earlier. She needed to find out who this, Carl was and why Derek desperately wanted nothing to do with his birthday greetings. Then the doorbell rang.

 **Home of Fran Morgan –**

It had been almost ten years since he'd been in the small over-stuffed basement. Even when he found himself back in Chicago on business or family visits, he never ventured down into the space that held his childhood memories. Now here he was in the far corner facing the stacks of boxes with his name written in black marker. His mother had a special way of organizing and preserving things from his and his sisters' childhood; things that no longer had any use yet kept tucked away just in case…for times like these…

He wasn't sure why he'd found refuge here. The room was poorly lit and musty with a light layer of dust on the boxes and old furniture. Not knowing what he expected to find he pulled a small box from the closest and shortest stack and peeled back the yellowing packing tape and opened it. His eyes immediately fell on an old notebook. The corners were slightly curled back and the pages were dingy around the edges the result of being handled by the hands of a little boy turning and scribbling on the pages no doubt after hours of playing and sweating. He wasn't sure why his hands where trembling now as he pulled the notebook from the box. His stomach was queasy and he could feel beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. Setting the box down he took a few moments to calm his breathing and steady his hands. Over the years moisture had made the blue ink smear slightly but the words were still bright and legible. The emotions and the memories and the smell of the old paper was overwhelming as he ran his fingers across the inside cover. He'd written his name in large block letters and had colored the letters in with the same pen. It was a reminder that he'd never been that good at art…it also reminded him of the darkest days of his life.

This notebook was the only place where his feelings were safe and the only place where he wasn't judged or vilified. His fifth grade teacher had suggested he begin keeping a journal after his father's death and reluctantly he'd taken her advice. Each page held everything he was feeling and thinking during those days. The weathered book was where he screamed silently as he wrote and cried alone in his room.

 _April 4, 1980_

 _Carl picked me to go to his cabin in Wisconsin. Rodney and his friends are jealous. Carl said we are going to have so much fun fishing and swimming in the lake just the two of us. We leave tomorrow._

 _April 6, 1980_

 _Why? He said it would be our secret…that it wasn't wrong. He said it wouldn't hurt but it did. He said he loved me…_

The notebook that held the secret tears of a little boy floated like a feather as it fell from his hand…the hand of the man who'd tried so hard to deny the pain and memories of that little boy. He hadn't been strong enough to protect him, so innocent and weak… what made him think he could protect the man the little boy had become now. Who would love him and who would understand?

"Spencer?"

"Yes, Garcia?"

"Has Derek ever mentioned someone by the name of Carl Buford to you?"

"No."

Reid stepped inside and closed the door.

"Are you sure?"

He looked at her shocked at the question wondering if he really needed to answer. She quickly realized her error.

"Of course you are. My bad."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's just that I found a card from a, _Carl Buford_ on Derek's desk this morning."

"So, someone sent him a card."

"It had, _Happy Birthday,_ written on the back flap of the envelope."

"Well it is his birthday next week."

"I know but I've never heard of Carl Buford."

"I'm sure Derek knows a lot of people that you've never heard of before, Garcia."

"I know, I know but this same Carl Buford sent him a card here and I found it ripped to shreds in the trash."

"Maybe he thought it was junk mail…"

"Who sends junk mail in purple and lavender envelopes?"

"I don't know, it could be anything…wait…why are you going through Morgan's trash?"

"Because he always takes the garbage out when he leaves town."

"You're not making sense…what's that have to do with you knowing what's in Morgan's trash?"

"I just do, that's all."

He watched her fumble nervously with the hem of her sweater as she averted her eyes from his face. He knew there was more to the story.

"Garcia?"

"Okay, fine." She exhaled before beginning again. "We're living together."

"Living together? Living together as in roommates living together or living together as in a relationship living together?"

"Derek and I are a couple now."

"I WON! I WON!"

Reid's outburst nearly scared her to death. She watched him jumping up and down in place with his arms swinging above his head in glee. Surely this wasn't the psychotic break he'd feared would happen sooner or later.

"Reid?"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted kiss on her cheek; an odd reaction from a young man who possessed very little to no desire for close human contact. Just as fast as he'd kissed her he jumped back nearly tripping over her bag on the floor. The apologetic look in his eyes was priceless; they both needed the distraction.

"I won! I won the bet! I knew it!"

"A bet? What bet?"

"JJ! I promised her a month of free babysitting if I didn't win. I said you and Morgan were together and she said you weren't because if you were, she'd know because she would have gotten a phone call five seconds after the two of you made it official."

Garcia moaned at his glee…she had some _'splaining_ to do.

"I told her that you two would try and keep it a secret for as long as possible because you wouldn't want us giving you a hard time about finally getting together! So, I won!"

Garcia felt a headache coming on. She rubbed her temples and looked around for a magical rabbit hole to fall into…but there was no hole and no little girl named, Alice to beckon her toward an escape to Wonderland.

 **Chicago, Illinois – Damien Rogers Community Center –**

He'd heard that he was in town. The news of James Barfield's death had summoned him back home. He chuckled at the thought of seeing him again and he couldn't help but relish in the excitement and the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He slowly ran his tongue across the shiny bitter strip and closed the envelope. He'd sent three already; two to his home in Quantico, one to his office at the BAU and now this one would find its way to his family's home three blocks away.

Out of all the others, Derek had been his favorite…not his first by any stretch but he was definitely his favorite. He'd missed the little boy and none of the others had managed to take his place. He loved the time they'd spent together at his cabin and in this office after hours. He was trusting, so needy and like the others he wanted to tell but he knew the consequences of that. So he kept his mouth shut fearful of losing everything he was gaining…fearful of losing his life.

Then there was a knock at the door. Carl looked up from his desk and smiled. The little boy stood in the doorway. He was nervous and he was totally unaware that his left leg was shaking out of control. His caramel complexion and curly hair reminded him so much of Derek when he was a boy.

"Come in."

He hesitated not sure if he should…not sure if he had a choice. His young eyes roamed the room landing on the trophies, plaques and autographed sports memorabilia.

"Don't be afraid, Stevie. There's no one else here but the two of us. This is our special time together. You do still want to go to my cabin this weekend don't you?"

The boy, he was no older than ten stepped through the door and stood in front of the large worn wooden desk.

"That's a good boy."

Carl stood and walked past the boy until he reached the door. Taking a quick look both ways down the hallway he smiled and nodded. Satisfied that the two were alone he closed the door. Stevie jumped at the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place and he closed his eyes as he counted Carl's steps back to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek didn't know what he would do if he ever saw Carl Buford again; if they were ever alone in a room…

He wasn't sure why he'd come to the Community Center but he found himself getting out of his rental car and crossing the busy street to the building where he'd spent countless hours as a young boy. He'd been forced to go; his mother's answer to his wayward ways. She thought he needed an outlet for his energy to keep him from his mischievous antics.

His hand trembled slightly as he pulled the door open. The lights were off and it was quiet. Derek's mind pulled him back to the times he'd spent here alone with Carl. Then his heart stopped and so did his feet. He heard a familiar voice and then one of a much younger boy. His heart started again, pounding ferociously in his chest. He could feel the pain of each beat and now he was running toward the office at the end of the hall. The pounding of his fist against the plexi-glass caused the voices inside to cease.

"Carl? Let me in now!"

There was no response as Derek began pounding again.

"CARL! I swear I'll kick this door down if you don't open it right now!"

After a few short seconds the door opened and Derek was face to face with Carl Buford the man who'd run the center for nearly forty years. The two stared into each other's eyes speechless. Morgan looked beyond the man his eyes fell on the bottle of Helgersen's wine. The top was off and a small glass half-filled sat next to it.

"Derek Morgan."

"What's going on in here, Carl?"

"Nothing that's any of your business."

He was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. Derek took a step into the office pushing past the older man forcing his back against the door. The wide shame-filled eyes of a little boy came into view. Derek felt sick to his stomach it was like looking into the mirror.

"Get out of here."

Derek saw the glass in the boy's hand, it was nearly empty. He had a look of guilt on his face as if he had been duplicitous in a crime. He was silent afraid to speak.

"Get out of here…NOW!"

The boy ran past the two men out into the hallway. Derek turned back to face Carl his fist clenched at his side fighting his urge to pummel the man into dust.

"You haven't changed, have you Carl! Still that sick bastard preying on little boys!"

"I don't know what you're talking about Derek."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Carl!"

"Look Derek…"

"I know what you did to James you did the same thing to me."

"I didn't do anything to James, to you…"

Morgan felt the rage overcome him. He needed this monster to admit his sins and he needed it now.

"You could have said, no."

Morgan closed his eyes to stop the tears. No way was he going to cry in front of Carl Buford, he'd seen him cry too many times as a child. His rage scared even him and he was no longer able to control his mind; his feet involuntarily began to drag his body toward the man standing in front of him who was grinning and daring him to accuse him again. His hands continued to clinch tightly…the rage had blinded him and all he could see was red and hot yellow flashes of utter fury.

 _" I didn't hurt you…you could have said, no."_

Had it been that simple? Was that all it would have taken to make Carl stop? He felt like that thirteen year old boy again trapped in this office trembling…trapped in that dark, dingy Wisconsin cabin. Before he realized it his hands were wrapped around Carl's neck. The feel of the man's bones beneath his grip and the sound of wheezing wasn't enough to take away his own pain. He'd never admit the pleasure he felt in that moment.

Then his cell phone rang, once…twice…between each ring the wheezing and gasping for air grew louder. The third rang drug him back to sanity and with a forceful motion Morgan pushed Carl against the desk as he released him. He kept his gaze on the man watching him struggle to breathe as he pulled the phone from his belt.

"Derek?"

He closed his eyes trying to clear his head before answering the caller on the other end.

"Baby, where are you? I went to check on you and you were gone? Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm okay. I just needed some air. I'll be home soon."

"O-Okay…I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Bye ma."

Carl slightly slumped over and slowly regaining the feeling around his neck, watched his attacker wondering if he'd try again to kill him. He wanted to taunt him he wanted to ask if he'd liked the birthday cards he sent him. He wanted to let him know that he'd be getting another one tomorrow but he thought better of it.

Derek backed away toward the door dreading the fact that he'd come in the first place. There were better ways of dealing with this monster.

"You'll pay, Carl…for everything; maybe not for what you did to me, the state of limitations has long past on your crime against me."

"Then good night…"

"Don't think this is over, Carl. I won't rest until you're sitting in a cell rotting for what you've done."

A wicked sick smile spread across the older man's face. He'd clearly regained his confidence and his ability to breathe. He was once again certain that he would live to make it home for dinner. Then without another word, Derek turned and left the office.

"Good night, Derek!" He yelled down the hall. "Oh and by the way, Happy Birthday!"

The man's laughter bounced against the walls. Derek wondered why he hadn't taken a few more moments to finish the man off. He deserved to have the life squeezed out of his body but killing him seemed to be too merciful for a monster like Carl Buford. Derek wanted him to suffer and death was too good for the man who'd stolen his childhood, his privacy…his ability to ever trust again.

Stevie had already lived a thousand lifetimes in his short ten years. He'd been Carl's _'favorite'_ for three months now and their after hour meetings had become a sick routine for the little boy. He wanted to tell someone about what was happening but with his record of getting into trouble at school and around the neighborhood Carl had convinced him that no one would believe him.

The curly headed boy watched from the park across the street as the stranger who had rescued him from another session with Carl only moments ago crossed and got into a car nearby. Hidden behind a large tree he watched as the muscular man started the engine. Carl had called him, Derek Morgan. He'd heard of a local hero by that name. He stayed hidden as the engine started and the black sedan slowly pulled away from the curb. He wanted to stop the man and tell him something…anything but all he could manage to get out in a muted whisper was,

 _"Thank you."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: This chapter contains mention of child abuse. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!**

If her son ever questioned his life decisions, Fran would remind him of his decision to let Penelope into his life. It was by far the best decision he had ever made. He struggled for ten years with the feelings he had for his best friend, the woman who had stood by him for years. Both of them in denial about what everyone else knew for certain. They belonged together plain and simple.

Fran scanned the group of men and women headed toward baggage claims looking for perhaps the only person who could pull her son out of his despair. Penelope waved as their eyes met. Both of them wearing smiles of relief as they rushed toward each other enveloping and hugging each other as if their lives depended on it. Teary-eyed and giddy, the two waited along with the crowd of new arrivals as Penelope's brightly-colored luggage made it around the carousel where the two women were standing.

Grabbing the overstuffed bag, Penelope started toward the doors with Fran at her side. No words about Derek were spoken until they made it through the parking lot. The minutes were filled with idle chatter about Penelope's flight and her amazement over getting the last available ticket. It got them to the car and buckled in and as Fran started the engine, Penelope exhaled anxious to hear about the man she loved more than life itself.

"How is he, Fran?"

"Not good. I'm worried about him. He and James were close no doubt but something doesn't feel right."

"Yeah I was thinking the same thing. He hasn't been himself for weeks now and it seems as though James' death has sent him over the edge."

"Do you think that whatever seems to be bothering him is connected to James somehow?"

"You're sounding like a profiler, mama Fran."

The older woman glanced over and smiled as the two chuckled which seemed to relax them a bit.

"Not hardly I just know my son and he's never been this distraught over anything before. He's lost a lot of friends over the years to these streets, but this is different."

"James was so young and he called Derek before he left on his last case."

"Do you know why?"

"No and I haven't had a chance to talk to Derek about it either."

"Are you two okay?"

"Yes, yes we're fine."

Fran could hear the hesitation in Penelope's voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong...it's just that we hadn't decided on when we wanted to tell anyone..."

"Am I going to be a grandma soon?"

Penelope smiled and turn to look at Fran.

"No not yet."

"Then what is it?"

"Derek and I are living together."

A smile crossed Fran's face now.

"Well it's about time! I'd rather the news be that my grandchild is on the way but I guess I'll have to wait a while longer."

"Who knows maybe you won't have to wait too long."

 **Home of Fran Morgan -**

Morgan was thankful that the house was empty when he arrived. He wasn't in the mood for his mother's questions. Quickly taking the stairs two at a time, he headed for the showers. He felt dirty and disgusting. That's how he always felt after spending time with Carl Buford.

The hot water beating against his body reminded him how exhausted he was. He hadn't slept well over the past few weeks and his body craved sleep. If only he could get his mind to shut down for a few hours...

 _"Weelllll hello, D! What took you so long?"_

 _The man smiled to see the unsuspecting little boy enter the room. He had assumed he was alone. His arms were occupied with an equipment bag that seemed larger than he was. His frightened eyes searched the room for an escape but like all the other times before, there was none. The large over-stuffed bag hit the floor as he absentmindedly let it slip from his grasp. He was terrified and his mind and eyes were now focused on the man with only one thing on his mind._

 _"Don't be afraid. You should be used to this by now."_

 _"I want to go home."_

 _The little boy trembled which seems to broaden the smile on Carl's face. He closed the gap between them causing Derek to step backwards into the wall. His back hitting the wall made Carl giggle...Derek hated that high-pitched giggle...it seemed so odd for an old man...his voice always changed two octaves higher when he was about to...start._

 _"I want to go home."_

 _"You can't go home until you give me what I want."_

 _"Please...no..."_

 _His voice sounded like a whisper even though he knew he was screaming. The tears began to roll like hot lava down his face...eyes continued to roam the room hoping to find the escape he'd missed earlier._

 _"You know there's no way out, D. So, you better man up boy!"_

 _His hands on his shoulders seemed to scald his skin through his shirt and he could smell the familiar aroma of cheap wine on his breath as he leaned in resting his scruffy face against his cheek. The dark weathered hand pressed his small body against the wall while the other hand trailed down the side of his jawline then lifting his small face to meet his leer._

 _"You belong to me and when you realize that things will go a lot easier for you."_

 _The little boy shook his head denying that he'd ever make it easier. The man's thumb and index finger clamped against his face like a vice forcing him to stop moving. He'd never forget his eyes...the color would change to a deep blackness and the whites of his eyes seemed to turn yellow and his nostril would flare ...that was the sign that things were about to begin...the nightmare of his childhood would become his living horror story and it didn't matter if he screamed, begged or fought...it would always begin. He was too weak to make it stop...too weak to free himself from the evil man's grip and when it was over...he was too afraid to tell._

 _"You know you like it when I touch you, D. It's okay, it will be our secret...our secret...our secret...forever."_

 _"No...don't...NO!"_

Penelope heard his voice from the hallway. She'd become familiar with his nightmares over the years and she was the only one who knew how bad they could get. By the sound of it, this was one of the worst. She slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Her eyes welled up in tears as she witnessed the scene that had become a part of their secrets. He'd made her promise not to tell Hotch or the others, swearing that they were just a by-product of the job...besides, they all had nightmares.

She tiptoed towards his bed she needed to be careful not to startle him as she gently placed a hand on his bare shoulder just above the lion tattoo.

"Derek..."

 _"Please...no...I want to go home..."_

"Derek, Baby..."

 _"I don't want it...please let me go...home...ma!"_

"Wake up, Derek...it's me, your Baby Girl."

He seemed to be struggling to breathe this wasn't a part of the normal nightmares. Her heart rate went up as she began to shake him awake. His thrashings seemed more like fighting and he shook him harder to rescue him from his torment.

"Come on Derek! Wake up! You're safe...you're home...come back to me, please Baby Boy..."

His eyes sprung open and he stopped frozen stiff as if someone had hit the pause button to taunt him with a few minutes of mercy. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His head slowly began to clear and he knew it was really her, his God-given solace.

"You came..."

Before she could respond he gobbled her up in his arms. Now it was hard for her to breathe as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"Baby Girl..."

He buried his face in her hair as he struggled to regulate his breathing.

"I'm here...It was just a dream...just a dream..."

She felt him nodding yes against her. Slowly he let her go and leaned his body against the headboard. She watched as he began to withdraw from her just like he'd done the night before, the days before and weeks before.

"Derek..."

She reached out to touch his arm. He flinched and pulled away from her touch.

"Talk to me Handsome. I know something's wrong and it goes way beyond James' death. Talk to me."

"I'm fine. Really, I'm okay. It was just a nightmare, that's all."

Again she touched his arm and this time he didn't flinch allowing her to run her hand up and down his arm. Joining him on the bed she waited for him to calm down and complete his journey back to the present.

"You had me so scared. I needed to come...I couldn't stay in Quantico...not after that phone call."

"Thank you for coming."

"You don't have to thank me. I love you and if you need me I want to be here."

He shook his head and closed his eyes fighting to regain his strength and clear his head. Once again she pulled him from the deep dark pit of hell that his memories would insist he visit each night. He couldn't share what they really were about and who he really was. If he did she'd run. He could' live with the pity in her eyes or the shame felt every time he closed his eyes to sleep.

"Baby...who is Carl Buford?"


	8. Chapter 8

She noticed his body stiffen and his eyes widen in what looked like terror. He tried in vain to hide his discomfort; he seemed angry as he pulled away from her.

"What?"

"Who is Carl Buford?"

"How do you know about Carl Buford? I've never mentioned him to you."

"He sent you a birthday card…well he sent you two birthday cards. One to the office and when I threw out the trash I saw another one on the ground next to the cans in the backyard."

Morgan buried his face in his hands mentally scrambling for something to say that would end this conversation. He couldn't look at her now so he focused on his fingers as they toyed with the fringe on his bedspread.

"Three."

"What?"

"He sent me three birthday cards."

"But your birthday isn't until next week…" She watched as his agitation increased. "He must really care about you…"

"Stop…okay, please just stop!"

Wrapping his arms around himself he began rocking slightly on the bed still keeping his eyes away from her. He jumped when she placed her hand on his arm. Penelope tried not to be hurt and take his behavior as rejection.

"Derek, you need to talk about whatever this is. I'm here for you…whatever it is…I'm not going any where."

She reached out for him again and this time he didn't flinch or resist her touch. The warmth that radiated from her hand caused him to lean toward her and she took it as a sign to pull him into her arms.

"I feel like I'm going to suffocate…I can hardly breathe."

"What is it? What's got you so torn up inside, Baby?"

"I didn't know. I didn't know that James…if I had known that I wasn't the only one…I would have told. I have to believe I would have told."

"You're confusing me, Handsome. Does this have to do with this Carl Buford person?"

He turned his head to face her; tears had already begun streaming down his face. He shook his head yes to her question. He needed to talk, to tell someone…to tell her.

"Carl Buford was my mentor when I was a kid. My mother made me go to the community center after I started getting into trouble. I didn't want to go but she insisted…"

The buzzing of his cell phone against the wooden nightstand made them both jump. Neither of them had realized how quiet it had been in the room. Morgan reached for the phone and was puzzled and surprised by the name flashing across the display.

"Gordinski?"

"Another kid has turned up dead…"

"Okay…I'm sorry to hear that but what does that have to do with me?"

"It was a suicide…just like James." Gordinski paused not sure how to tell him the rest. "He wrote a letter…"

"Okay, so?"

"It was addressed to you."

 **Chicago Police Department –**

Against his wishes, Penelope entered the busy precinct with Morgan. He'd done everything he could to convince her to stay at his mother's but she refused. She had just gotten him to talk to her before the phone rang interrupting them. Lt. Gordinski met the two as they reached the middle of the busy room.

"Derek thanks for coming."

The older man looked questioningly at the woman by Morgan's side. Noticing his unwanted stares, Morgan introduced the two.

"Penelope Garcia, Stan Gordinski."

"My pleasure." The man nodded.

Without saying a word, Garcia nodded her reply.

"You said there was a letter?"

"Right this way."

Stan headed toward his office on the opposite side of the room with Derek and Penelope close behind. Stan quickly grabbed the evidence bag from his desk and handed it to Morgan and without saying a word he stood waiting for the agent's response. The look on the Morgan's face spoke volumes as he stepped away from the two and moved to the chair in front of the desk sitting without taking his eyes off of the letter.

"Derek?"

Penelope watched as his face turned an ashen shade of gray while his eyes roamed the letter again.

"Did you know this kid?" Gordinski asked.

Morgan shook his head, no.

"His name was Jonah Martinson…are you sure you didn't know him? He hung out at the community center, played football with James and…"

"What?"

"Jonah…Jonah Martinson…"

"No…not that…"

"He hung around the community center…

"And he played football with James Barfield…"

"Yes, exactly!"

"Lieutenant, these aren't suicides."

"The coroner…"

"I don't give a damn what the coroner said! Kids are dying everyday out in those streets but their not committing suicide, Gordinski!"

"I hate to admit it but I think you may be right, agent."

Morgan stood and handed the letter back to the lieutenant. There was another dead child; like James he'd played football for Carl Buford. James' letter had forced him to accept his blame in his death by keeping his mouth closed so many years ago. How many more boys did Carl hurt after he'd left? Morgan looked at Penelope; she saw the pain in his eyes. Instinctually, she wrapped her arm around his holding on for dear life. Derek stared into the face of the man who'd made his young life a living hell. His childhood of being blamed and dragged into this very office rushed him like a mighty wind. Then…

"Invite us in!"

 **Damien Walters Community Center – Afternoon –**

Carl poured the sepia-colored wine into the paper cups. The confident smile on his face as he turned to face his visitor, made the young boy's stomach turn. Handing one of the cups to Stevie, he motioned for the boy to sit on the couch. Stevie's eyes wandered the room waiting for Carl to take his seat next to him.

"What you looking for boy?"

"N-Nothing…"

"You expecting Derek Morgan to bust through the door again?" He snickered.

The boy didn't answer choosing instead to focus his attention on the pastel and floral cup in his shaking hands.

"Because he can't save you this time. You do know that, right? You belong to me!"

Carl watched in disgust as the tears began streaming down the caramel-colored skin of his little friend.

"Now, drink up."

Rodney Harris had spent most of his childhood at the community center. He'd played football there and had even run most of his criminal activities from there. His friends would often joke that the space under the bleachers was his office. The man who ran the center would pretend he didn't know what was going on turning a blind eye to Rodney's burgeoning enterprise. Now his son was a regular at the center. His ex-wife had begun sending Stevie there after they split up. He hated the idea of his son spending time at the center it brought back too many memories. His only relief was that his son wasn't an athlete…not even close…Carl Buford loved athletes. His son was a computer geek who spent all of his free time with old lady McGill, a retired English teacher in the lab learning all sorts of things that Rodney couldn't begin to understand. Rodney didn't have much use for God but he managed to whisper a prayer to the man above for instilling in his son the love of technology.

Rodney hated the community center now. The memories were too overwhelming and he had long ago outgrown his place at the center and in Carl Buford's life. The two men had not spoken or seen each other in many years. Today, Rodney had no choice but to return; he'd promised to pick Stevie up for his arranged visit there instead of their home because of an unexpected emergency. As he walked the dim empty corridor his mind went back to the days he'd spent running up and down the halls that seemed much smaller now.

"Now, drink up."

He'd never forget that voice no matter how long he lived. The order to, _drink up_ was one he'd heard too many times to count and the taste of cheap wine was suddenly on his tongue. Rage filled him. Carl was still at it, victimizing little boys. He hadn't been the only one…almost twenty-five years later…he wasn't the only one! He had no control suddenly as he watched his hand turn the nob of the office door. Then he stepped across the threshold into the seedy depths of hell. The little boy's eyes widen as he looked in the rage-filled face of his father.

"Dad?"

"Stevie?"

Carl jumped from the couch and away from the boy.

"What the hell you doing, Carl? My son? You messing with my son?"

Rodney rushed the man before he could speak. The bravado he'd shown earlier with Derek now gone, and was replaced with utter terror. Stevie sat frozen on the couch he dropped the cup spilling the wine on his pants.

Rodney summoned every ounce of strength sending his fist plowing into the face of his former mentor and abuser. He felt the wonderful feeling of bones crunching against his knuckles as the old man grunted in pain.

"This is my son! MY SON! You bastard!"

Again Rodney hammered his fist against the man's face and head. Stevie sat watching, hyperventilating and crying out of control.

"Dad!"

"Why him? Why my son?"

The man's blood was now covering Rodney's t-shirt as he continued to pound the life out of him. He was blinded with fury…each punch evoked visions of the man's hands on him…he saw himself backed into a corner…or laying beneath the monster on the very couch that his son now sat.

"Dad, please!"

Again he hit the man…he couldn't make the vision of his visit to the cabin go away. Again and again he hit the man…he could smell the wine…the rancid stale breath of the morning after…he could feel his large rough hands roaming his soft youthful body…and again…he pounded the man. Then for no other reason except that he was too exhausted to hit him again, he let him go and watched his beaten bloody body float to the floor landing with a heavy thud at his feet.

"Dadddd!"

His son's frightened voice pulled him back from the edge forcing him to slowly turn to see the tears, the fear and the shame on his young face. This was not what he wanted his son to see. He knew he wasn't the best father and that his son had been told the worst about him…most of which was true, but still he wanted his son to know what it meant to be a man. This wasn't it…this was his life not his son's…and now he'd seen for himself what his father truly was.

"Stevie! Get out of here!"

"No, Dad…Please!"

"No, go home! Now!"

Stevie stood taking a shaky step toward his father. Carl Buford lie on the floor moaning and choking on his own blood. Rodney held his hand up stopping his son from coming closer.

"What have you done…?" The boy whispered.

"Just go…go home. I'll take care of everything."

Rodney watched as his son turned, still hysterical by what had just happened before his eyes.

"Stevie?"

Slowly the boy turned to face his father.

"I love you, okay? Just remember, I'll always love you, no matter what."

Stevie nodded and without another word disappeared down the hallway.

Derek was relieved that Garcia agreed to stay put until the team arrived. Fran had tried in vain to get her son to stay put as well. He was stubborn just like his father and she knew he wasn't listening. There was nothing either of them could do to change his mind from going to confront the man that had been like a father to him. Neither of the women knew why after so many years, he felt the need to pay the man a visit now. They only prayed that the visit to his mentor would help somehow.

There was no way Carl was going to get away with what he'd done. Gordinski had refused to pursue the accusations against the neighborhood savior after James' death and now with the new boy's death, Stan still had excuses to wait until they had more evidence. The latest letter addressed to Morgan didn't reference Carl nor did it hint of any abuse. It was simply a letter from a depressed young man who wanted to reach out to a local hero before taking his own life.

Derek made his way across the street. He knew exactly where to find the man who'd stolen his childhood. He wasn't sure what he would say to get the man to admit his crimes but he wasn't leaving without a confession. School hadn't let out so the center was empty. Derek didn't need an audience or witnesses to what would no doubt go down between him and Carl.

Morgan saw the bloody hand print on the door handle then he heard the faint moans. Careful not to touch the print, he pushed the door open. He wasn't prepared to see the still body of Carl Buford on the office floor.

"Carl?"

Morgan took a measured step into the office dropping to one knee he could tell that the man was still alive…barely.

"No! Carl?"

Forgetting that he was now in a crime scene he grabbed the man by his shoulders pulling him to a sitting position.

"Hell no! Don't you die on me! You don't get to die! Not yet, that's too easy!"

The man moaned in pain under his rough treatment.

"That's right, open your eyes you son-of-a-bitch!"

Carl began to chuckle splattering blood on Derek's white shirt.

"Derek…"

"Don't you die on me! That's it, open your eyes!"

Carl opened his eyes. The confidence and arrogance was still there even after being beaten within an inch of his life he still managed to mock Derek with a glassy stare that taunted the younger man.

"Derek…isn't there anything…you…can do for me?"

Morgan quickly released the man and pulled his phone from his belt as Carl's body slid back to his place on the floor.

"You can go to hell!"

Just as Derek began to call 911, Carl's eyes began fluttering and his breathing became labored. Without completing his call, Derek dropped his phone in the pool of blood that had formed around Carl's body.

"No you don't…no… you're not going to die…not now! You're going to rot in prison where you belong!"

The man smiled as Derek pleaded for him to live. It was useless and both men knew that with each passing second death was near. Carl chuckled; the high-pitched laugh still strong…still haunting and for a moment Derek was that scared little boy trapped in the hidden cabin in the woods of Wisconsin.

"Derek…you were always my favorite. I knew you would come."

And then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek slowly pulled himself away from Carl's lifeless body. He was a federal agent and a former Chicago Police officer. He knew what he needed to do. This was a crime scene and he was a witness; but a witness to what? Carl was dying before he'd arrived and he hadn't seen anyone or anything. This was bad, really bad. He forced his mind to focus, carefully picking up his phone out of the puddle of blood. 9-1-1 was still on the display and without hesitating he pressed the send button and waited for someone to answer.

Stan Gordinksi had never worked with the FBI before but he knew he was out of his league with this case. Morgan had been absolutely correct; young boys in the community were dying but it wasn't at their own hands. James Barfield had been one of the few that had risen from his circumstances and he'd done all the right things to get out. Jonah Martinson, the latest victim had had a few scrapes with the law but nothing that had gotten him into any big trouble. Both boys had left behind a letter addressed to Derek Morgan and it was those letters that made Stan agree to call in the BAU.

Gordinski had attended a seminar years ago where he'd personally met SSA Jason Gideon who'd agreed to look at some old cases that had left the then detective baffled. Deep in his gut he suspected Derek Morgan of the crimes that had an eerie similarity to these current two cases. He'd secretly built a profile and it led him directly to the former police officer. As a kid, he was nothing but trouble, and Stan had dragged his sorry ass in on more than one occasion. Now he'd interjected himself into this investigation, which only added more fuel to the case he was building against the agent.

As the older man headed toward the front door one of his detectives rushed up to him nearly out of breath.

"Cap!"

"Yeah Bronski, what is it?"

"We just got a call of a disturbance over at the community center. I though you might want to know."

"I was just on my way over there. Who called it in?"

"Derek Morgan."

Penelope couldn't hear what the two men were saying but she had a bad feeling it wasn't good. She'd promised Derek that she would stay put but her concern and curiosity was getting the best of her. The team wouldn't be there for at least two more hours and she hadn't heard from Derek since he'd left headed to the community center.

 **Damien Walters Community Center –**

Derek was talking to a police officer when Gordinski arrived. He was the last person Derek wanted to see right now. His mind went back to his childhood when every time something happened in the neighborhood he was the first person Gordinski came after. Now here he was with Carl's blood splattered on his shirt and hands with nothing but his word as a defense.

"Morgan!"

Gordinski stopped next to the young officer interrupting their conversation. The younger man looked slightly confused and irritated at the intrusion. Literally throwing his position and weight around Gordinski dismissed the officer.

"I was just giving my statement…"

"What were you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to Carl."

"Why?"

"Why, because you won't do your job, _Captain_! James said Carl abused him in his letter! Jonah also left a letter! If it was anybody else, you'd have hauled their asses in a long time ago!"

"I don't need the likes of you telling me how to do my job, Derek! Carl is a good man; he's kept a lot of boys out of trouble…you included!"

"Carl did a whole lot more than that…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Derek stopped himself his emotions began welling up and he felt as if he were about to explode. He still couldn't tell anyone, especially Stan, what had happened to him at the hands of Carl Buford. No one needed to know that. It was his secret…a secret he was determined to take to his grave.

 _"Isn't there anything you can do for me?"_

His stomach began to do flips and he knew he had only seconds to make it to the restroom. He looked up the hallway and headed to the opposite end. Gordinski stood confused at the man's sudden departure. Then turning toward the officer who'd been there earlier giving him an order.

"Follow him! Don't let him out of your sight!"

 **BAU Jet…one hour from Chicago –**

"When we land I want Dave and JJ to go talk to James' mother."

The two nodded.

"Reid, you go talk to the Martinson's."

"If these are suicides why are we being called in?" Rossi asked.

"According to Garcia, Morgan doesn't think they are suicides."

"Homicides made to look like suicides?" JJ asked.

"Maybe they are exactly what they are…suicides." Reid began. "Morgan could be grasping for straws. He doesn't want to accept the fact that his friend killed himself."

Hotch looked up at Reid he'd thought the same thing from the beginning. Morgan had not been himself for the last several weeks and even before his young friend's death, something was definitely going on with him.

"That may be but Morgan is a profiler, one of the best and he's always been able to do his job and keep a clear head no matter what else is going on with him."

Rossi had seen Morgan weather storms and still bring down an unsub. Mentally and emotionally he was the strongest of all of them. That strength sometimes worried Rossi because one day that same strength would be his biggest weakness.

"Let's just do what we do and close this case. No matter what we find, Morgan is going to need closure."

 **Chicago Police Department –**

Garcia stood when Morgan stepped through the door. There was a young officer trailing behind him trying to keep up. Garcia closed the door of the conference room after him. After he stepped inside she pulled him into a tight embrace while the man assigned to keep him in sight stood outside the room fidgeting.

"Baby Girl, I'm sorry it took me so long to get back."

"What happened? I saw Gordinski leave earlier…"

She noticed the blood…she hated blood…whose blood was it?

"I went to talk to Carl…but when I got there…he was…"

He wasn't sure how to tell her the rest.

"Talk to me."

"He's dead, Garcia. Carl Buford is dead!"

"What? No! How did it happen?"

"I don't know but…"

Stan Gordinski burst into the room followed by two uniformed officers. Morgan released his hold on Garcia and stepped in front of her taking a protective stance shielding her from the men.

"You don't knock, Gordinski?"

"This is my house, I don't have to knock!"

Derek looked from man to man as they all quickly filled the room.

"What's this about?"

"Derek Morgan, you're under arrest for the murder of Carl Buford."

"NO!" Penelope gasped.

He couldn't have killed Carl. Derek wasn't a murderer, beside the man was his mentor, he'd sent him birthday wishes and…then everything seemed to become clear. He'd been keeping something from her for weeks. He'd been withdrawn, moody…she wasn't a profiler like the rest of them but she'd seen and heard enough over the years to know that what he was about to tell her back at his mother's house before they were interrupted was something she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

Garcia watched as Morgan was grabbed by two of the officers. One took his gun while the other roughly cuffed him making sure he had them on nice and tight. Morgan looked back into her wide teary eyes as he was pulled from the room.

"Garcia, I didn't do this! I swear I didn't do this!"

 _"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney…if you can't afford one…one will be appointed to you…"_

"Derek…" She whispered tearfully.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chicago Police Department –**

Garcia was relieved to see her team walk through the door. She stood and rushed out of the room toward them. She'd informed them of Derek's arrest shortly after he'd been yanked away. She saw the look on Hotch's face and the others following closely behind seemed to match their leader's expression.

Gordinski saw them too and arrived a step before Garcia extending his hand and a weary smile at the agents whom he had heard so much about.

"Agent Hotchner, Captain Stan Gordinski."

Hotch examined him suspiciously and reluctantly shook the man's hand.

"Captain. This is my team, SSA David Rossi, SSA Jennifer Jareau and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Agents. I was going to call you in on this case…I'm just sorry that it now involves your agent Derek Morgan."

"According to my technical analyst, you've arrested Agent Morgan for murder?"

"Yes. I believe he is responsible for the murder of two young men dating back six years and another one yesterday."

Hotch stared intently into the other man's eyes then glanced quickly at his team.

"I'm sure there must be a mistake…"

"No. No mistake Agent Hotchner. In fact, Derek…uh…Agent Morgan was found at the scene of another murder a few hours ago."

"What? That's impossible! Morgan's not a murderer!" Reid interjected.

"I believe he killed the man who ran the community center when he thought the man may have found out about his involvement with the other murders."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions, Captain." Rossi began. "We need to see what you have against our guy."

"Of course. I have a room set up for you all next to my office. Follow me."

"I need to talk to Agent Morgan." Hotch insisted.

"Of course. If your team would like to get settled in the conference room then I'll take you to him."

 **Interrogation Room –**

Derek stiffened as Hotch walked through the door. He had that look…the look he'd give when he'd had enough of his bullshit.

"Hotch…"

"Are you okay?"

Morgan was caught off guard. It wasn't the first question he'd expect his boss to ask.

"Hotch, they think I killed four people!"

Hotch saw the fear and the denial his friend's eyes. He knew Morgan wasn't capable of any of the things he was being accused of.

"What happened, Morgan?"

"I-I- don't know. I went to see Carl Buford…"

"Who's Carl Buford?"

"He's the man who runs the community center. I've known him since I was a kid."

"Why did you go to see him?"

Morgan dropped his head. He didn't want to talk anymore…he was done…no more…

"Hotch I didn't do this! I didn't kill anybody!"

"Morgan, why did you go to the community center to see Carl Buford?"

"James…he left a letter. He said Carl had molested him. That's what made him…"

"Morgan?"

"Hotch, James didn't kill himself! Carl did, I know it!"

"Morgan, you were at the scene, the victim's blood was on you! You corrupted the crime scene and you're the one who called it in! This looks bad…"

Morgan was stunned. He stood and moved to the far corner of the room. If Hotch could believe he was a murderer then there was no way he'd be able to convince anyone else of his innocence.

"What are you saying to me? Do you think I did this?"

Hotch remained silent instead he watched his friend crumbling before his eyes. He was keeping something from him; something worth risking his freedom for and Hotch needed to know what it was if he had any chance of saving him.

"I'm saying that if there's something you're hiding you need to trust us. We're here to help and none of us believe you killed anyone."

Morgan took his seat again slumping and leaning against the wall. He couldn't tell them what had happened to him…no one needed to know that it would change everything and if things changed his life would never be the same.

"Nothing. I'm not hiding anything."

 **Conference Room-**

"But it doesn't make sense. Derek doesn't have a criminal record!" Reid insisted.

"I hate to break it to you but Derek Morgan as a criminal record."

Gordinski handed the younger man a copy of a computer printout. Reid was stunned Morgan was his best friend he knew him, his character, his fierce loyalty to justice but the paper in his hand painted another picture.

"Petty theft, aggravated assault…resisting arrest…this is Morgan?"

Rossi grabbed the report from Reid; he hated surprises and none of them saw this coming. JJ shot a glance at Garcia it was obvious even she hadn't known this tidbit about Morgan's life.

"He was thirteen…just kids being kids! Surely you're not basing your profile on a juvenile record that is over thirty years old?" Rossi asked.

"I met the late Jason Gideon at a seminar years ago and he was the main speaker. I asked for his help in this case that had gone cold. He agreed to look at it so I sent him the files."

Gordinski handed Rossi another report.

"His profile led me straight to Morgan; African American male between the ages of eighteen to thirty-five, with a knowledge of law enforcement. He also said my killer could even have a criminal record."

"But how can you blame Morgan for the two murders that happened six years ago? He was in Quantico."

"Both bodies were discovered days after Morgan had been in town visiting his family."

"Captain, a profile's purpose is to exclude suspects…Morgan didn't do this. There are thousands of men who fit this profile!" JJ insisted.

"Maybe but only one who kept in contact with CPD about these cases."

"You mean he called you?"

"No, he would never call me but he did call; at least every other month asking if we'd gotten any leads."

Hotch entered the room interrupting the heated conversation.

"How is he?" Rossi asked.

"He's clearly hiding something." Then turning his attention to Gordinski. "Captain, who is Carl Buford to Agent Morgan?"

"He practically saved his life. Before Derek's mother started sending him to the community center he was on a fast track to jail or an early grave. Carl took him under his wing, spent time with him; taught him how to play football. He's the reason his Juvenile record was expunged. That's why you didn't know about his problems with the law until now."

Hotch looked at Rossi both men had a sinking feeling in the pit of there stomachs. Then he turned to Garcia she was standing there near tears.

"Garcia, I need you to dig into Morgan's life…deep Garcia, don't leave anything out."

"Yes…right away, Sir."

"Reid you and JJ go and talk to Morgan's family; see if you can find out what he's hiding from us."

"On it."

"Rossi and I will stay here and see if we can talk to him again."

Everyone nodded and headed out of the conference room. Gordinski headed toward the interrogation room to take another crack at Morgan before Hotch and Rossi had another chance to see him.

Gordinski stopped dead in his tracks. The sight of the open door of the small room caught him off guard. Then pulling his massive bulk toward the door he trotted down the hall only to confirm that the room was empty and Morgan was nowhere in sight.

Hotch and Rossi were pulled away from their conversation by the loud booming voice of the highly pissed off man barreling through the conference room door.

"What happened?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're man, he's gone! Did you just let him waltz out of here?"

"No, Captain, I did not…"

"If I find out you had anything to do with his escape I'll arrest all your asses!"

He wasn't sure if Hotch had left the door open on purpose or if it was just a huge mistake in his favor. Regardless, Morgan wasn't about to sit around while Gordinski set him up to take the fall for four murders that had nothing to do with him. Even Hotch seemed reluctant to believe he was innocent. It was up to him to clear his name. He needed to find the real killer.

The cool air felt good against his face as he pulled his jacket tight across his body. Looking both ways, he headed to nowhere in particular just as long as it put distance between him and the precinct that he'd become far too acquainted with as a boy.

"Captain, please tell your men that Morgan is not a threat!" JJ pleaded.

"To me he is! If my men spot him they are ordered to bring him in by any means necessary and if he resist, they will shoot to kill!"


	11. Chapter 11

Morgan knew he had to be careful. By now Gordinski would have every cop in Chicago looking for him. It was foolish of him to leave but his history with the older cop taught him that he was safer on the streets than he was locked up in a tiny room with Stan Gordinski drooling and looking for any excuse to beat the hell out of him.

So far he'd been able to stay out of sight blending in, keeping his head down and not doing anything to draw attention to himself. He wasn't sure where he was going; for sure he couldn't go home that would be the first place cops would show up.

 **Police Department –**

Garcia watched as Gordinski orchestrated his plan to bring Morgan in. He'd ordered his officers to use whatever means necessary to bring in the homicide suspect. JJ had pleaded with the man to take caution but he assured her that his only concern was to bring Morgan in no matter what it took. She was terrified that Gordinski would find Derek before they did…before they could prove his innocence.

"He's awfully anxious to pin these murders on Morgan."

Garcia turned to face Reid. He had the same look in his eyes as he had earlier. She could always tell when the wheels were spinning in his overactive brain. Now they both stood watching the action around them.

"Yes he is. What did you and JJ find out?"

"His mother said he started getting into trouble a couple years after his father was killed."

"Reid, Morgan's father was killed right in front of him! You think Gordinski would have cut him some slack."

"I think this goes way beyond what shows on Morgan's juvenile record."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that Gordinski has a lot to gain if Morgan is silenced."

"Then we need to find him before Gordinski does."

Morgan could tell that Gordinski was determined to find him. Already the number of uniformed officers had increased and it was becoming harder to dodge them. Foot traffic was light and he had to get off the street soon or he'd be spotted for sure. He wanted to go home…

 _"I want to go home!"_

 _"Shut up!"_

 _He felt the sting of the man's large rough hand across his face knocking him to the ground. The space around him seemed to shrink as the man towered over his trembling body._

 _"Don't give me any problems, kid!"_

 _"Why'd you bring me here? I want my mom!"_

 _He felt his body being jerked off the floor and slammed against the wall. The man's hand around his small neck slowly began to tighten its grip making it hard to breathe._ _He tried but he couldn't stop the hot tears streaming down his small face._

 _"You going to be good? I promised my friend Carl that you'd be a good boy."_

The blare of a car horn pulled him from his memories. He'd stepped off the curb into oncoming traffic without looking. The noise had drawn the attention of two officers across the street who were talking to an elderly man. He ducked into a small market out of sight.

His eyes roamed the building for another way out just in case the two cops decided to follow him. Just as he rounded the last aisle he nearly collided with a familiar face. It was the boy from the community center; he'd wondered what had happened to him since his encounter with Carl.

"Hey?"

The little boy stiffened, fear in his eyes and shame…he recognized the shame as the boy began backing away from Morgan.

"No, wait. I'm not going to hurt you."

He relaxed and watched as Morgan moved in front of him.

"How are you, little man?"

"I'm okay."

Morgan noticed something off about the boy; his eyes began shifting and looking around as if he were expecting someone to appear.

"You sure? You look like you're afraid of something."

"I'm not afraid."

"He can't hurt you any more."

"What?"

"Carl. He can't hurt you any more."

"What are you doing messing with my boy?"

Derek looked up into the cold dead, angry eyes of Rodney Harris. The two men had a long history and neither had any warm fuzzy feelings for the other. Rodney stepped toward the boy and placing his hands on his shoulders pulled the boy against him.

"Rodney?"

"What you doing here, Mr. FBI? It's not safe out in these streets. Every cop in the city is looking for you."

"Yeah, I know."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"What you doing talking to my son?"

"I just came in. I didn't know this was your son, man."

Morgan shot a look at the young boy who now was staring intently at the man who'd saved him from Carl. He saw the pleading in his eyes not to tell what he saw and again he saw the shame.

"You just like the rest of us now. Thought you could escape…yeah thought you were better 'cause you made it out."

"It's not like that…"

"You just like the rest of us…"

"Dad?"

"Be quiet, Stevie!"

Rodney increased his grip on the boy. Stevie quickly fell silent dropping his head and focused his eyes on the floor.

"You got something to say, little man?"

Slowly he lifted his head.

"Stop talking!"

"What is it, Stevie?"

"You say one more thing to my kid and I'll call those cops in here."

Morgan turned toward the door. The cops he'd seen across the street were now headed toward the market. Then he turned back Rodney had a confident leer on his face now as he waited for Morgan to speak again. Quickly Morgan headed toward the back of the store searching for an exit. Just as the officers stepped through the door Morgan slipped out the back door into the alley. Rodney watched as the cops strolled toward the counter to speak with the woman at the register.

Stevie still silent looked into his father's eyes puzzled. He knew what his father had done and even though he knew why his father had killed Carl it still didn't erase the vision of his dad beating his abuser to death. The boy was well aware of his father's life and his aversion to obeying the law but he loved him. It didn't matter what his mother, stepfather or anyone said, Stevie loved his father and because of that he would never tell what he'd seen.

Rodney hated Derek Morgan for so many reasons. He'd replaced him as Carl's favorite and he was the one that Carl had helped escape the neighborhood. He'd always done what he was told, always kept his mouth shut and he'd believed the promises that were whispered in his ears during his private time with his mentor. Even when Derek had drawn the older man's attention away he never knew that Derek was being forced to endure the same torture and abuse that he had. He always assumed he was the only one; the only one Carl really loved…the only one Carl touched and made to feel like filth. Rodney felt his life end and his heart shatter when he saw his son with the man who'd stolen his childhood. There was no way his son was going to end up like him.

"Hey officers!" He yelled.

The two men stopped their questioning and turned toward Rodney.

"The guy you're looking for just headed out the back door. If you want to catch him, you better hurry."

The two nodded and ran through the store. Even before the door closed behind him he could hear footsteps and he knew that Rodney had sent the officers his way. There was no time to think of a next move he was in survival mode now. He had to get back on the street because the alley was a dead end in more ways than one.

"He's over here!"

Derek was running now; he needed distance and knowing Gordinski he'd ordered the officers to shoot to kill.

"Stop!"

He wasn't about to stop; he couldn't stop. He'd pay for escaping and embarrassing the older man who'd taught him as a boy what happened when he embarrassed him.

 _"Come on Stan, I think he got the message."_

 _Stan looked over his shoulder at his friend while still pinning his small body against the wall._

 _"He's got a smart mouth! He needs to learn…"_

 _Carl approached them. Derek was heaving trying to catch his breath hot tears scalding his face. He didn't want to be here with the two men but his mother had made him come._

 _Carl smiled and gently wiped the blood from the little boy's nose and lip._

 _"Hmmmm…I like his mouth…like it a lot."_

 _"Yeah, he's a little troublemaker. I told his mom he needed to spend some time at the community center with a friend of mine."_

 _The two men chuckled as Stan released Derek from his grip and watched as his body slid down the wall to the floor._

 _"Good, good. I can definitely keep him busy."_

 **Police Department –**

Stan was anxious things were unraveling. He'd grown comfortable with his secrets and his past had never threatened to resurface before. Even with Morgan's yearly visits home he knew the younger man would never tell. Carl had done a job on him just like the countless other boys…all of them too afraid and ashamed to tell. So, he continued his life, advanced through the ranks and on occasion he would do his friend a favor. He didn't understand Carl's appetite for young boys. These boys meant nothing to Stan and as far as he was concerned they'd all end up dead or in prison anyway.

Reid watched as the older man paced back and forth talking animatedly on his phone. He looked like a man with something to hide; this was more than a cop trying to solve a murder case. It was personal. They didn't have the full story and if they were going to help Morgan they needed the whole truth. The man's voice had raised ten octaves and now Reid could hear the desperation that confirmed his suspicions.

Hotch had his suspicions too. It bothered him that Gordinski was willing to focus solely on Morgan as a suspect in the four murders. Something was off it was as if the veteran cop had a personal stake in the matter. Just as Reid approached the others he could tell that his boss had come to the same conclusion.

"Hotch…"

"I know what you're thinking…"

Rossi, JJ and Garcia closed the circle careful that their conversation was not overheard.

"We can't let them hurt Derek." Garcia began.

"We won't" JJ assured her.

"Rossi, you and Reid…"

"Say no more."

Rossi led the younger agent through the sea of officers and out the door.

 _"If that bastard gets away, your ass is mine!"_

 **The Corner Market –**

Morgan watched Rodney and Stevie leave the market from his hiding place across the street. The little boy reminded him of himself as a child; he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he had no one to protect him. He knew something and Morgan couldn't help but believe that he'd wanted to talk, to tell him. If Rodney had his way, he'd personally lock him up and throw away the key. He needed to talk to the boy and find out what was troubling him. The biggest problem was navigating the streets of Chicago when every man and woman in uniform had been ordered to make his capture their number one priority.

Derek breathed a sigh of relief as the two officers who'd chased him from the market stood on the corner looking around baffled and deflated that they had failed. It was close…too close. There would be hell to pay, Stan didn't take failure well and if they didn't already know, the two young officers were soon to find out.


	12. Chapter 12

Morgan followed Rodney and Stevie careful not to be seen. He remembered his nemesis as being extremely paranoid. The police cars were still patrolling and officers were still questioning people on the street. Morgan watched Rodney enter a small corner house two blocks away with his son following close behind. He needed to talk to Stevie somehow Morgan had a feeling that Stevie knew something that could help prove his innocence.

An attractive dark-skinned woman met the two on the porch quickly sending the boy inside. She and Rodney stood talking, it was obviously heated their body language said as much. Morgan had found a place across the street out of sight watching the scene play out. He was surprised to discover that Rodney had a family. He'd spent most of his years as the neighborhood's number one drug dealer and he was known for his violent temper. Derek had several run-ins with Rodney and his last encounter was the start of his trouble with the law.

 **Chicago Police Department –**

Garcia had begun hunting they'd all agreed that Stan Gordinski had something to hide and Morgan was the key to uncovering it. She stared at the screen as the search continued her mind kept focusing on the conversation they almost had before they were interrupted. Then it was there…glaring on her screen.

Hotch pulled his phone from his pocket. It was a text from Garcia. They needed a break and with hope pumping and pushing him toward the conference room, he noticed Stan Gordinski making a hasty exit from the building.

"What is it, Garcia?"

JJ entered before she began sharing her findings.

"All of our victims frequented the youth center. In fact, all of them played football under Carl Buford's coaching."

"Morgan's mother said he played for Buford when he was a boy." JJ added.

"James Barfield left a letter saying that he'd been abused by Buford." Garcia continued.

"We need to find out why no one followed up on that accusation." Hotch noted.

Garcia froze and again her mind went back to her earlier conversation with Morgan.

"Oh my God…"

"What?"

"It looks like Carl Buford and Stan Gordinski grew up together in the same foster home."

"No wonder he didn't look into James' accusations. He was protecting his brother."

Garcia continued to scan through the pages of information now at her fingertips.

"What else, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"There's a report here from Social Services. It seems the two boys were extremely close. Carl was accused of inappropriately touching a younger boy when they were in high school. Gordinski covered for him. Said Buford was with him when the alleged incident took place."

"Looks like Stan's been covering for him for a long time now." JJ added.

"Oh…"

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"There's another report here."

"What does it say?"

"According to the younger boy, Carl sent him birthday cards every year until the boy graduated high school."

"Creepy." JJ shuddered.

Then Garcia turned to face her friends.

"Carl Buford has been sending Derek cards."

 _"Surprise!"_

 _Derek turned quickly around toward the familiar voice. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He looked around to confirm the dreadful truth…there was no way out of the small cabin bedroom._

 _"Did you think I forgot? Oh, I know it's not for a couple more days but I wanted to be the first to say, Happy Birthday!"_

 _Derek saw the bottle of cheap wine in the older man's hand and the two empty glasses in the other. The little boy began shaking his head, no, over and over. It didn't matter. It didn't stop Carl from coming closer…so close that he could smell the stale cologne on the man's clothes. He hated that smell…_

 _"Don't fight me boy! You know what happens when you fight me."_

Rodney clenched his fist in rage and then as if it took every ounce of strength, he turned and stormed down the steps and headed away from the house out of sight. This was the scene every time Rodney returned his son home.

She was much too good for him and he knew it but it had been his first real attempt at being good and leading a normal life. He failed miserably and soon after his son's birth he returned to his life on the streets; too impatient to put in the work to make an honest living. To make matters worse his visitation rights were limited to a few hours a week and he hated the fact that she had all the say in his boy's life. Most of all he hated the fact that she had begun insisting he spend time at the community center. Rodney knew what happened at the community center but he prayed that his son's love for computers instead of sports would protect him. It didn't.

Rodney knew Derek had followed him. He'd seen him, and felt his presence in the distance. His survival on the streets made it vital that he be aware of his surroundings at all times. Maybe his old enemy had been away from the neighborhood for too long, had forgotten his own survival skills and even as a big time FBI agent, had gotten soft.

Rodney turned around when he knew Derek thought it would be safe to come out of hiding. He saw the man run across the street toward his ex-wife's house; just as Rodney expected him to do. He watched him ring the doorbell and wait until Cara answered the door. He shook his head and smirked as he pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

"I got your boy."

"What?"

"I said, I got your boy!"

"Where?"

"He's at my ex's house."

"Thanks Rodney, I'm on my way."

"You better hurry."

Stan ended the call and shoved his phone in his jacket pocket. Derek Morgan was a lose end that he couldn't allow to ruin his life. He'd kept his and Carl's secrets for years but he was backed against a wall now like a caged animal. He had to get to him before his team did. One phone call, one opportunity and he'd tell; he'd tell everything…no Stan had worked too hard and come too far to let that happen.

 **Home of Cara Harris –**

"I don't understand why you want to talk to my son, Derek."

"Please, I think he knows something about Carl's death."

"What? Stevie? That's crazy! He barely knows Carl!"

"Cara, please, I just need to talk to him for five minutes. I promise I won't do anything to…"

"No! You're not talking to my son!"

Cara looked up and past Derek. Derek turned to face the familiar voice. The two saw the gun in his hand and froze where they stood.

"Rodney!" Cara began.

"Don't do this, man!"

"Shut up, both of you!"

"You're son is inside, do you want him to see his father kill a man?"

Rodney shifted uncomfortably and Derek saw the look of anger change to one of guilt. Cara's eyes widened as she glanced at one man then the other.

"Rodney, please leave, I don't want our son seeing you like this!"

"Inside! Now!"

"Rodney!"

"Shut up woman! I'm not going to tell you again! Get in the house! NOW!"

The two reluctantly turned and did as they were told. As they stepped inside they were met with the anxious, fearful eyes of Stevie. He watched his father as he pressed the barrel of the gun against Derek's back and push him toward the middle of the room.

"Have a seat, Mr. F…B…I…"

Without protest, Derek took the small chair next to the couch. Cara stood in silence as she wrapped her arms tightly around her son.

"Rodney, I'm begging you, please just leave before this gets out of hand."

"Cara! Shut…Up!"

She increased her grip on her son shielding him instinctively with her body.

"Dad, what are you going to do?"

"Daddy is taking care of things. Just like I promised I would, okay?"

"But Dad…"

"Not now son! Not now…"

"Rodney, what is this about?"

"Tell her Rodney."

Rodney began to sweat and he struggled to keep his anger under control.

"Shut up."

"Did Carl touch you too?"

"Shut up! You don't know me! You don't know my life!"

"He did the same thing to me!"

Rodney took two rapid steps toward Derek and without warning slammed the gun against Derek head in hopes of silencing him. Derek saw stars and felt blood tinkle down the side of his face.

"Killing me isn't going to make what he did to you…"

Then he glanced at Stevie.

"…and to your son go away."

Rodney reared back to strike Derek again.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!"

Her cries of despair stopped him in mid-air. The two parents shared a look; she saw the truth in his eyes…her son pulled out of her arms and stepped away creating space that looked and felt like exile. Cara turned and looked at her son, she wanted to deny she'd heard the words but her answers were in her young son's eyes.

"Is it true?"

Stevie kept his eyes down trained on his dirty tennis shoes.

"Answer me. Is it true? Did that man touch you?"

Rodney began to shake his head in denial but he knew the truth. He'd seen it with his own eyes. He broke and his body began to shake as he cried tears of sorrow and guilt and shame. Derek watched as the family's truth exploded and ripped their lives to shreds. The carnage, the bits and pieces of what remained made him sick to his stomach.

Cara close the distance between her and Stevie. Then slowly she dropped to her knees in front of him and waited for him to look at her.

"Stevie. No matter what, I will always love you, okay?"

He shook his head.

"Now answer me. Did Carl touch you?"

Now tears poured down his small face as he slowly shook his head again. His voice was a whisper but she heard him loud and clear.

"Yes."

 _"No one will believe you, Derek! No one. You belong to me. I love you!"_

 _He took the glass from the man's weathered hand and held it to his lips._

 _"Drink up!"_


	13. Chapter 13

Garcia continued to search for a lead that would help her team find Morgan before The Chicago Police Department did. Rossi and Reid were already out in the field but admittedly they were at a disadvantage. Gordinski had given his men orders to use any means necessary to bring him in including force. Morgan held the key to this case and perhaps didn't realize it.

 **Home of Cara Harris –**

Cara looked into the face of her son; he was terrified he looked different, older and she felt as if she'd failed him somehow. Why didn't she know? How could she have sent her son into the arms of a sick monster? Stevie hadn't said a word he just stood ridged in front of his mother, father and the FBI agent who'd saved him from Carl.

"What are you going to do, Rodney?"

Morgan watched as Rodney renewed his grip on the gun while alternating glances between his son, his ex-wife and Morgan. He was determined not to reveal his secrets to the two people that had long ago lost faith in his ability to do the right thing.

"Are you going to let your son see you kill an innocent man?"

"I told you to shut your mouth!"

Cara pulled her son close while shielding him with her body. She'd seen that look in Rodney's eyes before. It all made sense now; the fits of rage and the nightmares…her heart broke for the man she'd once had so much hope in.

Morgan saw no way out without someone getting hurt. He saw himself in little Stevie's eyes…he saw the pain and he saw the loss of a childhood stolen before it had gotten started.

"Now, we're going to wait right here and you, Mr. F.B.I. are going to keep your mouth shut or I will put a bullet in your head, understand?"

Rodney came closer pressing the barrel of the gun against Morgan's forehead. Morgan waited for what would come next. He heard Cara gasp as he closed his eyes.

"Yeah, I understand."

"Good." Then looking at Cara. "Take our son in the bedroom."

"What are you going to do?"

"I said, take our son in the bedroom!"

"Rodney, please don't do this! I'm begging you!"

"We're just going to talk, right Derek? Just two old friends catching up."

Without another word, Cara pulled her son down the hallway. Rodney lifted his head and when he heard the sound of the bedroom door closing he turned his focus back to Morgan.

"Now where were we?"

"Where do think he'd go?" Reid asked.

"Knowing Morgan, he's trying to clear his name. He'd start at the scene of the crime."

"The community center."

"Yup."

"But the police are probably staking that place out."

"Probably but Morgan knows how to get around a CPD stakeout."

The next few minutes were spent in silence as the two agents combed the streets.

"So why do you think Gordinski is so determined to pin these murders on Morgan?"

Rossi took a moment before answering.

"How much do you know about Morgan's childhood?"

"I actually don't know anything about his childhood. In fact, I've learned more in the last few hours than I have in the last eleven years and I consider him one of my best friends."

"Yeah same here."

Again there was silence between them.

"So what do you think he's been hiding?"

"Well, let's see. James Barfield was a close friend of Derek's. He wrote that Carl Buford abused him when he was a boy. Derek played football for Buford. He never talks about Buford; I think we both know what he may be hiding."

Reid turned and looked aimlessly out of the passenger side window. He didn't want to imagine what Derek had refused to share with them or why he'd decided to run from them instead of to them.

Stan Gordinski was five minutes from the Harris home. He welcomed the call from his longtime associate. The two men had formed an unholy alliance to protect themselves from the one man who knew their secrets. Gordinski had been responsible for introducing both Rodney and Derek to his "brother" Carl. Rodney had become a part of the dark side of things in the community while Derek had left in pursuit of something better.

"I always wondered what I would do if our paths crossed again."

Morgan struggled to keep his breathing even; showing fear to Rodney was something he refused to do.

"You always thought you were better; you and your sisters. Now look at you!"

"Rodney, what's your son going to think? Uh? What's he going to do knowing his father is a mur-"

Rodney slammed the gun against the side of Morgan's head again. He was supposed to wait for Gordinski but he needed to finish this; he needed to win, to beat the one man whom he'd never been able to beat before.

"Ahh!"

Morgan closed his eyes tight against the pain as a fresh trickle of blood ran down his face.

"How about I kill you right now? How about…"

"RODNEY!"

Rodney froze his arm in mid air to strike again. Morgan slowly raised his head struggling to see past his attacker toward the familiar voice. Gordinski stepped through the front door with his gun drawn.

"I'll take it from here."

"Took you long enough!"

"Yeah well, his FBI buddies have been a pain in my ass all morning, so I had to make sure I wasn't followed."

"You owe me for this one. There ought to be a reward or something for catching the dude that killed your buddy, Carl."

No one knew Gordinski's and Buford's real history and Stan didn't see a reason to reveal it now. He moved closer to stand next to Rodney staring intently at the bloodied Morgan.

"Damn, good thing I got here when I did."

"When did you two become friends?" Morgan moaned.

"Friends? That may be a slight overstatement." Stan looked at Rodney and the two men smirked. "Let's just say we both share the same dislike of our hometown hero."

"I didn't kill Carl or those other boys and you know it, Gordinski!"

"I don't know anything of the sort. You've always been a troublemaker and I see things haven't changed."

"Come on, man we need to get rid of this problem."

Stan nodded in agreement as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his handcuffs.

"Garcia, we need something quick!" Rossi yelled into his cell. "There's no sign of him at the community center and nobody's seen him."

"I'm trying, but so far nothing and Gordinski left out of here about an hour ago."

"That man is hell bent on pinning this on Morgan and if we don't find him before…"

"Hold on!" She interrupted. "I think I found something!"

 **Home of Cara Harris –**

Rossi pulled the SUV into the driveway of the small house and jumped out. Reid met him at the driver's side and the two rushed up the steps to the front door. A woman met them at the door frantic and they could tell she'd been crying.

"Are you Cara Harris?"

Rossi held his credentials up against the screen door.

"Yes."

She opened the door and stepped aside allowing them in.

"We're looking for your ex-husband Rodney Harris. This is his last known address."

"Rodney doesn't live here…do you know Derek Morgan?"

Reid and Rossi exchanged puzzled glances.

"Yes. He's our friend."

"Then you've got to help him! My ex-husband and Captain Gordinski took him!"

The woman was near hysterics now as she tried to explain.

"Calm down, calm down…just tell us what happened." Rossi continued.

"Agent Morgan came by; he wanted to talk to my son, Stevie."

"Why would he want to talk to your son?" Reid asked.

"He said it had something to do with Carl Buford."

Then as if on cue, little Stevie came around the corner and stood next to his mother she gently wrapped her arm around him and pulled him against her body. Tears began to fall down her face. Rossi spoke first.

"Stevie, my name is David Rossi and this is my friend, Spencer Reid. We're friends of Derek Morgan, the man that was here earlier."

Stevie silently shook his head. Reid took a step closer to the boy.

"Do you know something that can help us find our friend?"

Still without saying a word, Stevie looked at the floor. Cara pulled away slightly and turned her son to face her. He slowly looked her in the eyes.

"Stevie, do you know something?"

"My dad told me not to tell…" He whispered.

"Tell what?" His mother asked.

"Dad…"

"Please Stevie, we don't have much time." Rossi pleaded.

"It was my dad…he killed Mr. Buford."


	14. Chapter 14

"Where are we going?"

Ignoring the question, Gordinski continued to drive. Morgan heard a light snicker come from Rodney as the car continued away from the city center.

"My team is looking for me, you know that right?"

"Your team." Gordinski chuckled. "Your team will be too late."

"Yeah, there's a whole lot of bodies buried around this place that have never been found, right Gordinski?"

The older man glanced at his cohort shooting a look through the rearview mirror.

"You'd know more about that than I would Rodney."

"Yeah whatever."

"You gonna throw away thirty plus years on the force, Gordinski? Because if you kill a federal agent, you're done! You'll spend the rest of your life…"

"Shut up!" Then to Gordinski, "Man, let me pop a cap in his ass so I don't have to listen to his mouth anymore!"

"Patience, patience. Besides, we're almost there."

 **Home of Cara Harris –**

"My dad found me in Mr. Buford's office."

"What were you doing there?"

Reid already knew in his gut what the boy would reveal next…it was the same thing that was driving Morgan to continue to elude capture, the same thing that kept him silent about his childhood.

"Drinking."

"Drinking?"

"Mr. Buford, Carl…he always made me drink wine before…"

Instinctively Cara pulled her son to her as if protecting him. It was too late to protect him now the damage had already been done.

"It's okay, son."

Rossi interrupted looking at Reid then at Cara. Guilt and shame was written all over the little boy's body he couldn't make eye contact with them and his shoulders were bent as if he were carrying the guilt of someone else's crimes.

"Stevie…"

The small eyes slowly lifted to meet Rossi's.

"No matter what has happened none of this is your fault. What Carl Buford did to you, is not your fault, okay?"

Stevie shook his head as tears began to stream down his face. There were no words left to say. Not now. Rossi and Reid thanked Cara and her son and quickly left the house.

"Garcia…"

"Did you find him?"

"No. Gordinski beat us here. He and Rodney took him…"

"Rossi, we have to find him!"

"I know, I know, Garcia we will, we will."

"Garcia, can you locate Gordinski?" Reid interrupted.

"Um maybe, if CPD has GPS on their cars, sure. If not, I can trace his phone…"

"Do it, Garcia!"

"Okay, okay…"

"Garcia?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurry!"

Gordinski turned sharply down a dirt road off the beaten path. It was obvious that it wasn't a road that was used often and if you weren't familiar with the area you'd have no clue it existed. Then without warning he stopped the car kicking up the dust around it.

"Get him out!"

Rodney did as he was told jumping out of the car and running to the other side of the car. Gordinski walked to the front of the car and began wiping the sweat from his brow and pacing nervously. Morgan watched and waited for his chance any chance to make a break for it. His hands were still cuffed but his feet were not and that was good enough.

 **Chicago Police Department –**

Fran knew things were bad and she still remembered all the times the then Sgt. Gordinski had pulled Derek in for questioning assuming that he was the instigator of the bad things going on in the neighborhood. She had no idea the man still held bad feelings against her son. Now she sat next to Penelope as the younger woman searched for leads to her son's location. JJ and Hotch had taken another SUV and began their own search heading to the more rural parts of the city.

Rodney yanked the car door open and was surprised by Derek's booted foot that landed squarely in his gut knocking him to the ground. Just as Derek managed to get to his feet Gordinski noticed the commotion and struggled to drag his heavy girth toward the back driver's side of the car. It was too late, Morgan was too fast and the older man's gun was still holstered under his jacket. Rodney managed to lift his upper body off the ground just in time to meet another kick this time to the nose sending him on the ground again gasping through the blood spurting from his nose.

Just as Derek cleared the back end of the car, Gordinski managed to free his gun and aimed it at Derek's back. Even though he'd managed to get passed Rodney's feeble attempt to grab him, Derek was still close enough to hear the click of the service revolver…then the bang that broke the serene quiet of the deserted country road.

Garcia jumped almost surprised at the information flashing on the screen in front of her. Fran noticed her reaction and the fact that she'd stopped typing, her jaw dropping and her eyes wide open.

"Penelope?"

Turning to meet Fran's questioning stare Penelope exhaled a shaky breath.

"I found them."

 **Deserted road…**

Derek felt the hot burning in his shoulder as the bullet slammed into his back; the force of which sent him to his knees.

"You make another move and I'll put a bullet in your head!"

Rodney was on his feet now, gun drawn and both men stood behind Morgan close enough for the agent to hear the men breathing.

"You're not going to get away with this…"

Morgan didn't get the rest out before he felt a large foot connecting to his lower back. He was face first on the ground now trying to regain control of his body but Rodney shoved his foot down holding him to the ground.

"What are we waiting on, Gordinski? Let's do this!"

The older man stood over Morgan's prone body holding the gun, taking his time and relishing in the moment.

"Rodney…" Morgan coughed. "How did you meet Carl?"

Rodney shot a confused look at the older man.

"What? I'm getting ready to kill you and you want to walk down memory lane?"

"Just answer. Was it Stan? Did he bring you to Carl?"

"Shut up!"

"…A gift? Were you a gift?"

Now it was Stan who moved against Morgan bending down and placing the barrel of his gun to the back of Morgan's head.

"It's time to die!"

Suddenly the sound of a large vehicle interrupted the three men. Morgan was able to lift his head enough to see two black SUV's pull onto the road. The team jumped out with their guns aimed toward Stan and Rodney.

"PUT THE GUNS DOWN!"

Stan renewed his grip pressing harder against Morgan's head. Rodney aimed his gun at the team then quickly back at Morgan not sure what to do next.

"Don't do this Captain! It's not too late to fix this." Hotch urged.

"I'm _fixing_ this right now!"

"Rodney, drop the gun! Your son needs you! Drop it!"

The younger man began to fidget as his eyes darted from Hotch to Stan and then back to Morgan.

"Rodney." Hotch took a measured step forward. "Did Carl do things to you when you were a boy?"

"Stop talking! Rodney shook his head. "You don't know me! You don't know my life!"

"Did he make you drink the wine, Rodney? Did he get you drunk before he touched you?"

"Shut UP!"

"Stan gave you to him, right?"

"Stevie told us…" JJ chimed in.

"No! He wouldn't do that!"

"Stan, we know how much you loved Carl. He was like a brother…" Hotch continued

Stan looked up sweat dripping down his face but his gun never let up, never waivered.

"He _was_ my brother! He was all I had!"

"Put the gun down!" Reid ordered.

Hotch took another stepped toward the other men.

"Don't come any closer or I'll kill him!" Gordinski warned.

"Rodney!"

Rodney looked questioningly at Hotch.

"Did you tell Stan?"

"Tell him what?"

"Did you tell him that you're the one who killed Carl?"

Stan was stunned. He turned his head unable to process what Hotch had just said and faced Rodney.

"No, no, no! He's trying to trick you, man!"

"You? You killed Carl?"

Stan stood upright and lowered his gun.

"He's just trying to turn us against each other!"

"Carl touched you too, didn't he Rodney?"

"No! Stop talking!"

"That's why you beat him beyond recognition! We had to pull his dental records to identify him, Rodney!"

Then…none of them saw it coming. Even in the heat of the situation, no one saw it coming. Hotch had hoped to appeal to Stan Gordinski's innate desire to be a good cop, to prove that he was more than he really was and to prove wrong all those who had said he'd be nothing but a loser foster child. So, when he turned and shot Rodney dead all that was left for the team to do was to return fire.

 **St. Mary's Memorial Hospital –**

Morgan, flanked by both Fran and Penelope, had failed to convince either one of them that he was fine. The news from the doctor that the bullet had passed through without causing major damage did nothing to ease the women's minds. The door slowly opened and Hotch, Rossi, Reid and JJ entered the room with relieved looks on their faces. Taking their post at the foot of his bed all of them seemed to find humor in the sight before them.

"Ma, please! Baby Girl! Both of you I'm fine!"

"Derek I've been a nurse for…"

"I know, I know thirty years…"

"Exactly! So lay back and let me take car of my only son!"

Morgan shot a look to his other teammates pleading for help.

"Looks like we finally found someone that can put you in your place." Reid teased.

"Don't encourage her, Pretty Boy!"

Nervous laughter and idle chatter filled the room each of them avoiding the real topic at hand. Derek was exhausted and suddenly became quiet and distant. All of them noticed and knew it was time to discuss some real truth.

"Thank you all for what you did today."

Everyone exchanged guilty looks.

"Was Carl our unsub?"

"Yes he was. He…" Hotch began.

Morgan relaxed and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again.

"That son-of-a-bitch! I knew it. He killed those boys and made it look like suicide."

"Yes, but…"

"I knew James wouldn't kill himself…he wouldn't…"

"Morgan."

Reid tried to interrupt his friend.

"I don't understand why Carl would force James to write a note that accuses Carl of molesting him."

"He didn't." Reid added.

"What are you talking about, Reid?"

"Morgan, I read the coroner's report. I even asked him to check everything again."

"Okay, so?"

"Morgan, Carl didn't kill James."

"Then it was Gordinski or Rodney…"

"No…Morgan." Hotch interrupted. "James killed himself."

"NO! Hell no! There's a mistake…we were supposed to talk! I told him I'd call him when we landed! He wouldn't do that!"

"Morgan there's no mistake. I'm sorry."


	15. Chapter 15

It had been almost an hour since he'd asked them all to leave. He didn't want to talk and he didn't want to hear the details of how James had taken his life. More than that, if he heard that it wasn't his fault one more time he was afraid there would be another body in the morgue.

He had held onto the details of his childhood for dear life. Now, he had already seen the pity and sadness in their eyes. They knew…all of them. It was too much to look at his secrets spilled haphazardly on their faces. Until he admitted the truth he knew their thoughts were mere suspicions but like him, they were all profilers and they had just enough of the pieces to put the entire puzzle together.

She didn't knock. If she did he'd asked her to leave. His secrets were all he had left; the only thing he really felt he controlled and now he had to face the fact that they'd all figured it out. Fran slowly stepped into the room and approached his bed. Her son, the boy who'd insisted on being the man of the house when her husband was killed. Who'd become withdrawn and angry and would spend long hours at the community center and then his bedroom. She should have known something was wrong but instead she'd insisted he go and become one of Carl Buford's boys.

"Ma, what are you doing here?"

She gently took his hand in hers.

"We need to talk, Derek."

"No we don't."

He pulled away from her looking toward the wall then the ceiling where he finally fixed his gaze.

"I talked to your boss. He said that James' death was a suicide. It wasn't connected to the other boys…"

"Please I don't want to do this right now."

"Did that man…did that man hurt you?"

He began to tremble as he fought to control his emotions. He couldn't. He didn't win that battle either so the tears began to force their way from his eyes.

"Did that man hurt you, Derek?" She asked again.

He shook his head no; not to her question but to what it would mean to his life if he admitted the truth. He knew it would break her because it had broken him and so he laid there struggling with the truth and the damage it had already done in his life.

"Ma! Please don't ask me that!"

"Why, Derek? I need to know! I need to know if I sent my son into the arms of a monster!"

He grasped the sheet tightly in his hands holding on for dear life as he stilled himself against the pain, the anger and the loss of what had been taken from him against his will.

"What did he do to you, Baby Boy?" She whispered.

"I can't…I can't…"

"Derek?"

"He…did things to me, Ma!" He cried. "He touched me and…"

"My poor baby…I'm so sorry, baby." Now she was crying.

"He…took me to his cabin…I was so happy. I thought I was special because he chose me."

She gently wiped his tears. He looked away too ashamed to meet her eyes.

"I didn't know. I should have known." She murmured.

"He made me drink wine and then whiskey. He made me…I didn't want to but he…made me…do things to him too."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything? I would have…"

"What? Believed me?"

He turned to face her for the first time. Anger lit his eyes burning the tears away. His breathing increased as he tried to sit up. Morgan felt as if the room was closing in on him. The accusation of silence, the blame that rang from her words was too much. He was done with it, the talking the excuses…just done.

"Yes! I would have believed you!"

"Then what? Then what, Ma? It wouldn't have changed anything! It wouldn't change what he'd done! It wouldn't change what he'd taken from me or that…"

"Or what?"

"That he raped me!"

 **Hyatt Hotel – Penelope's Room –**

"How do I help him, JJ? What do I say?"

"Garcia, you don't know for sure. You don't know if Buford…"

"Come on, JJ. You're a profiler! You know better than me. It all makes sense! Why is it that none of us know anything about his life? Why is he so fiercely affected when we have cases that involve children? Why did he react so when he found out about James' suicide? JJ! You know…we all know!"

"Morgan is a very private man. We can't assume and we have to allow him to tell us or not tell us when he's ready and in his own way."

"I can't imagine what he went through. I don't know how he's survived all these years without saying anything."

"It was too painful. Morgan sees it as a sign of weakness and if he thought any of us knew it would kill him."

"So, I guess it comes back to my first question, how do I help him?"

 **Hotch's Room –**

Dave handed Hotch and Reid a glass of bourbon. He'd managed to call ahead after leaving the hospital and requested a bottle be sent to his room. Now, he, Reid and Hotch sat trying to process all that had happened over the last several hours.

"Don't judge me when I say this but, I'm glad that bastard is dead!"

Rossi took a long sip from his drink and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Which one, Buford, Rodney or Gordinski? Reid asked.

"All of them!"

"We're going to need to give Morgan some space so he can sort this all out." Hotch added.

"The crazy thing is that if James hadn't killed himself, we would have never known about the other boys and Buford could very well have gotten away with what he'd done."

Reid wanted desperately to feel that somehow there was some good that had come out of this mess.

"Morgan won't see it that way." Rossi began.

"No, he'll blame himself for James…"

Hotch drained his glass.

"Yeah and every other victim of Carl's that happened after he moved away."

Rossi got up and headed toward the bottle on the dresser.

"Do you think…do you think it happened to Morgan? Did he hurt Morgan like he did the others?"

Even the look of childlike innocence betrayed him as Reid drained his glass and looked sadly around the room.

"I think we all know the answer to that one."

Then Rossi poured refilling their glasses. The room grew silent as the three men lost themselves in thought.

 **St. Mary's Memorial –**

Morgan and Fran had cried themselves to sleep it seemed. He wasn't surprised to see his mother curled up on the small couch on the far side of the room. He didn't remember when they had fallen asleep or when they'd stopped talking. All he could remember was her questions and insistence that she would have believed him if he'd told her what Buford had done to him. He was to blame for all the others after him she'd said as much with her questions and with the look in her eyes. Sleep beckoned him…it was his only solace now…that and death.

 _It was only polite to knock before entering but after all that had happened she was no longer concerned with etiquette. He was the reason that her life had been destroyed and he needed to hear what he had done. She was there at this late hour to look into his eyes and spit in his face. Her son was dead! Dead by his own hands because a man had decided that he could have him in the most intimate way; that he could steal his innocence and convince him that no one could save him and worst of all no one would believe him if he told._

 _Derek didn't hear her come in. She was the last person he'd ever expected to walk into his room. He'd meant to go and see her before now but circumstances had interfered with his plans. He watched her as she moved toward him never taking her eyes off of him. She'd been crying her red eyes increased his feelings of guilt and he knew he owed her more than an apology._

 _"Mrs. Barfield…I…"_

 _"Derek Morgan. Chicago's hometown hero."_

 _He remained silent feeling the heat of her words. Where would he begin and what would he say to this woman who had lost her son her last hope of escaping the neighborhood._

 _"I'm so sorry about James, please you've got to believe me."_

 _Her eyes were filled with fresh tears now as she leaned in to him waiting until she was sure that she had his attention._

 _"Carl Buford did things to you, didn't he Derek? At first you thought it was an accident."_

 _"Stop…please…"_

 _"He took you to his cabin, let you drink with him…it was kind of cool…made you feel grown."_

 _"I didn't…I thought I was the only one."_

 _"He wanted to go swimming in the lake…without your swimming trunks, right Derek?"_

 _Morgan shook his head no, not at her questions but because the memory of it all was too much to relive._

 _"Please…I don't want to talk about this…not now."_

 _"Why didn't you tell, Derek?"_

 _"I don't know…I…"_

 _"My son would still be alive if only you told! Carl Buford would have never had a chance to touch my son! IF YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD!"_

 _"I'm sorry!"_

 _"That man made my son's life a living hell! He raped him, Derek! He was ashamed, and afraid and it's all your fault!"_

 _"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"_

 _"I don't want your apology! You killed him! You put that razor blade to his wrist! You!"_

 _"Forgive me! I'm sorry! I thought I was the only one!"_

 _"My son's blood is on your hands! How does it feel! You're no hero!"_

 _"I didn't know!"_

 _"My son believed in you! He looked up to you! You killed him!"_

 _"I'm sorry!"_

 _"His blood is on your hands…"_

 _"I'm sorry!"_

 _"YOUR hands!"_

 _"I'm…so…sorry."_

 _"YOUR HANDS! YOUR HANDS! YOUR HANDS…"_

 _"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

"Derek!"

"I didn't know!"

"Baby Boy!"

"I thought I was the only one…I'm sorry…I'm…"

"Derek! You're safe…I'm here…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Derek, wake up! Wake up!"

He felt himself shaking violently, then a voice…he knew that voice…it was hard to breathe…he felt as if he were screaming out loud…he wanted to open his eyes to run from the voice…to the voice to…

Then with great effort his eyes opened. He felt confused…where was he? What was going on?

"Derek…it's okay…it's okay…"

"Ma?"


	16. Chapter 16

Derek was anxious to leave the hospital and head back home to Quantico. He needed distance between him and Chicago, the place where he normally ran to, not from. His mother had already left at his insistence, reluctantly honoring his wishes. Their conversation from the night before still lingered between them there was much more that needed to be said but for now Derek didn't have the patience and Fran did not have the courage.

The team had discussed their suspicions about Derek's past and had agreed that until he confirmed anything none of them would broach the subject...for now. It was going to be difficult to pretend that things were normal, that this was just another case, but that was exactly what they would have to do to honor Morgan's need for privacy.

Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Penelope and Reid headed to the hospital immediately after breakfast to pick up Morgan. Cruz had instructed that they head back as soon as possible. Already their assistance had been requested in Baltimore, Maryland and he'd assured the lead detective that the entire team would arrive tomorrow morning. Hotch knew the fragile state of his team, not just Morgan but all of them yet his request for down time was refused. He hadn't told the team that they had a case waiting on their return. He didn't have the heart.

Morgan was putting the last few things in his go-bag as the team pushed through the door. His broad smile caught them all off guard.

"Hey, what took you all so long?"

Puzzled they all exchanged glances as he stood in front of them waiting for a response.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Then looking at Reid. "Pretty Boy?" Then at Garcia. "Baby Girl?"

"Uh, Morgan?" Hotch began. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Hotch! I have my discharge papers and I'm ready to blow this popsicle stand."

Rossi frowned and looked concerned at Hotch then at the younger agent.

"Yeah, you sure you didn't take one too many pain pills this morning? You seem a little…"

"Nah, old man. I'm good really."

"Well I guess I can tell you all now that we're together."

"What is it Hotch?" JJ asked.

"Cruz has a case for us in Baltimore, so we'll be heading there before we go home."

"What about some time off, Boss man?"

"Hotch, this case took a lot out of us…"

"Come on, you guys sound like a bunch of wimps!" Morgan chuckled. "We've seen worse…right?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as everyone looked at each other. The last thing any of them wanted to do was to be in the field with Morgan who was teetering on the verge of a breakdown.

 **Baltimore, MD – Police Department- Morning –**

Detective Bernard Sanders rushed across the room anxiously greeting the team. Hotch made the necessary introductions after which, the team followed the man to a familiar conference room.

"Thanks for coming! We could really use you all on this one."

"Of course. Thanks for inviting us in."

Hotch accepted the case file from the detective as the copies passed among the others.

"Tell us what you have, detective."

"The bodies of three boys have been found dumped near area middle schools…"

"The first two bodies were found two months ago, the last was found a week ago." Morgan interrupted.

"Yes…"

"What took you so long to call us in, detective?"

"Morgan!" Hotch scolded.

"No, no it's okay Agent Hotchner." Then looking wearily at Morgan. "We didn't realize the cases were related because the victims crossed racial lines and the dump sites were so spread out…"

"It doesn't matter detective! These are three boys! Three boys beaten, raped and murdered! I don't know about Baltimore, but that's not common in most…"

"Morgan!"

Hotch's fiery glare and flaring nostrils silenced Morgan freezing him in place. The others looked away in embarrassment. Detective Sanders stood in the uncomfortable room that seemed to shrink to half its size in a matter of seconds.

"Take a walk!"

"But…"

"I SAID TAKE A WALK!"

Without another word, Morgan stormed out the room throwing his case file angrily on the conference room table. His team watched in disbelief as he left the building.

"Agent Morgan is going through some personal difficulties. He in now way was insinuating…"

"No worries, Agent."

"Still, I apologize for him, this is not how we conduct business. We appreciate you letting us help."

Morgan rushed from the building, fuming and emotionally out of control. The detective had missed something and he put other young boys in danger because of it and worst of all his boss threw him out of the room and took the other man's side. Morgan had no idea where he was headed. He ended up in the parking lot next to the SUV that he had driven there, pacing and running his hands over his head and neck trying to reel in his feelings.

"You can't get emotionally involved like that."

Morgan glanced over his shoulder at Rossi. He'd no doubt volunteered to come after him. Morgan respected him and right now Dave was probably the only person he'd not rip to shreds.

"Dave, he should have called us two months ago, man!"

"They didn't know. They're not trained like we are! There's reasons why they didn't catch it and if you'd stayed long enough and read the report instead of biting that poor detective's head off you would have realized that!"

Morgan turned and faced the older man. He knew he was right. He was absolutely right, he should have read the entire report before flying off the handle.

"I know, I know…I was wrong…I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to."

"Yeah, I know. I'm such a jerk."

"No you're not. You just get too emotional sometimes."

"I hear you, man."

Morgan moved to head back to the precinct until Dave stopped him by gently grabbing his arm.

"No one will think any less of you if you want to sit this one out."

"I can't. I have to work this case and bring this son-of-a-bitch down."

Dave nodded and smiled. He understood perfectly. He also knew that Morgan was in trouble and so he vowed to watch and wait and when the time came he'd have his back.

 **Doubletree Hotel – Evening –**

"How's my man, JJ?"

"He's struggling, Garcie. Hotch almost sent him home five minutes after we got here."

"I feel so helpless, knowing what I know or what I think I know and not being able to say anything."

"Yeah, but he needs to talk to someone about this. He's acting like nothing is wrong and this case is bring out the demons."

"I'm about five minutes from jumping in Esther and driving to Maryland."

"He needs you, Garcia…"

"I'm on my way!"

He'd given up on sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw James, he saw James' letter and he saw his mother from last night's nightmare. He could hear her voice ringing in his ears and her eyes, accusing him of being duplicitous in her son's death. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him and he needed a distraction. Of all the times for Hotch to assign them all separate rooms. He raided the mini bar and now the empty bottles lay strewn across the room along with an untouched burger and fries from a nearby deli. The team had made a stop before heading to the hotel. He wasn't hungry.

He was angry; angry at knowing what the boys must have felt in their final moments. He knew how it felt to be trapped and touched and laughed at because he was too small, and too afraid. He was tired of hiding what had really been his childhood. The shame and humiliation that he'd clung to that had kept him silent now seemed to taunt him in the quietness of the hotel room. He was alone, utterly and completely alone and yet, he still could not speak about the unthinkable. He knew there had to be some sort of relief in uttering the words and telling but…he couldn't. After all that had happened, how could he say the words? How could he stand the pity that would shine in their eyes each time he saw them. He had to be strong, and he had to keep fighting to prove that he was strong, that he was a man that he could protect them…even if he couldn't protect himself.

Derek wanted to scream but just when he thought he would…there was a knock at his door. Pulling himself from the floor he hadn't realized until then that he'd barricaded himself in the bathroom, he'd forgotten he'd turned on the water and the room was filled with steam. The knock came again just before he opened the door. It was her, his solace and deep down he knew she would come, she knew he would need her. He felt the fissures around his heart widen and he fought to keep it together as she pushed passed him into the room. Trembling he watched her as she removed her coat and set her purse near the door. Then as she turned to face him, he saw the love.

"Baby Girl?"

"I'm here, Handsome."


	17. Chapter 17

She'd finally convinced him to take a shower and get into bed. She watched him struggle to fall asleep before finally drifting off. In all the years she'd known him it had never gotten this bad. Penelope always assumed his nightmares were from the horrible things they saw on their job each day. In fact, most of the team didn't even realize that he was haunted in his sleep just like they were. Morgan was the strong one of them all. He'd some how been able to compartmentalize keeping every thing in their neat, tiny places. He never seemed to crack or break like the others except of course when it involved children. Then his anger raged and it took a lot more effort on his part to work beyond it. Now she knew why. They all knew why and each one of his friends, especially her was clueless on how to help him.

Just as Penelope stepped out of the shower, her phone rang. Quickly grabbing it she stepped into the hallway.

"How's it going Garcie?"

"Not good. He's in bad shape. He's asleep now so maybe in the morning…"

"It's good that you came he needs you right now even if he won't admit it."

"I've never seen him like this before, JJ. He tries so hard to hide his feelings…I never knew he was so broken."

"Morgan is strong and he'll get over this, Pen. Hang in there."

"Yeah, always." Then changing the subject slightly. "I guess Boss Man is pretty pissed, huh?"

"That's an understatement. He doesn't like having to apologize for one of his agents. Morgan was out of line."

"He should have never worked this case in the first place, JJ."

"Hotch knows he's struggling, but we all know Morgan. The only way things are going to get better is if Morgan realizes that he needs help."

"I suppose it's just…I'm not sure I'm the one who can help him."

"Garcia, you're probably the only one who can help him."

 _"What happen, cat got your tongue?"_

 _Morgan turned quickly toward the familiar voice and was met with the dark stare of the man who'd called himself his friend. Young Derek had been locked in the dark storage closet for hours. He'd pleaded with Carl to let him out but all he heard was the man's sick laughter in response._

 _"I told you what would happen if you were a bad boy."_

 _"I'm scared I want to go home! I'll get in trouble if I'm late! PLEASE, Carl!"_

 _"You know what you have to do."_

 _Then Derek heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. As the squeaky door slowly opened the bright light from the room rushed in piercing the darkness revealing his tiny form curled up in the corner._

 _"Ahh…look at you. I love how your lips tremble when you're scared…my how I love that mouth!"_

 _"No! Please!" He whispered through his tears._

 _"You know what I want and I always get what I want."_

 _Then Carl sprang toward Derek and grabbed him pulling him from the corner._

 _"NO! Please I don't want…"_

 _The sting of Carl's backhand silenced him as blood trickled from his nose._

 _"Honestly boy, I don't know why you insist on fighting me!"_

 _Derek's whimpers increased as he struggled against the man's hold on his arm. Tears poured down his face as he felt Carl's breath on his face and his stubble rubbing against his cheek._

 _"No! No, no, no…"_

Noise from inside the room interrupted Pen's conversation. The blood curdling cries told her that she needed to get inside.

"Garcie? Garcie? GARCIA!"

"JJ, it's Morgan…I gotta go!"

Quickly ending the call, Garcia rushed back into the room to find Morgan fighting and in the midst of one of his worst nightmares. Shifting to autopilot Penelope crossed the room to the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

"Derek! Derek, Baby wake up! It's just a dream, it's just a dream!"

"No, let me go! Please Carl, no more! No!"

"It's me! Carl is dead…he can't hurt you…it's me, Baby Boy!"

Derek stopped thrashing around and stilled himself slowly opening his eyes. Tears and fear painted on his face…and shame. He was ashamed that she had heard and seen him like this and he was ashamed because he couldn't deny the truth any longer. She knew. He saw it in her wide-eyed expression and he closed his eyes again turning his back to her. He couldn't bare the pity…not from her.

"Derek!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

"No you're not okay, Derek! Look at me! You've got to stop pretending that it's okay!"

Derek curled into himself tighter trying desperately to loose himself from her embrace but the more he fought, the more she fought until he lay still and quiet on the bed. After several seconds she released him and pulled herself to a sitting position. She wanted to comfort him to assure him that everything would be all right but she had no words to say that would make it better.

The silence was heavy and the room seemed filled with his grief and her inadequacy. More moments passed before either of them moved or spoke again.

"Derek, talk to me."

"Not now, Garcia."

"I know there was something you wanted to tell me before we got called in on this case."

"Not. Now!"

"Derek, Hotch is going to pull you from this case. He's going to make you see someone."

Derek slowly pulled himself to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard.

"What difference does it make? You all know or think you know anyway."

"Derek…"

"What? You think I don't see the stares? I know you all have been walking around on eggshells wondering if I'm going to lose it! What do you want me to say?"

"We're your family. We love you…you do know you're loved right?"

He shook his head yes as he looked away. He still wasn't ready to talk or to look her in the face. He also knew he couldn't go on like this any more.

"I thought I was the only one."

Penelope gently placed her hand on his arm encouraging him to go on.

"I should have told. I should have said something. If I had then James would have been safe…he'd still be alive."

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault, Baby." She whispered.

"I was so scared. Every time he would tell me no one would believe me, that it wasn't wrong…that he loved me…"

"Love doesn't hurt."

Tears began to flow freely down his face as he sat for a moment in silence. Penelope moved closer careful not to break contact with her hand against his arm.

"I'm so tired, Baby Girl."

"You need to rest. We can talk more later, okay?"

"Yeah."

Without hesitation, Derek laid down turning on his side with his back to her. Gently wrapping him in his arms she held him tight as he settled and got comfortable. She knew that sleep would be hard tonight.

After several minutes she planted a light kiss on his cheek. His breathing had evened out and for now he was asleep. Pulling away from him slightly she reached for the light turning it off.

"Baby Girl." He whispered groggily.

"Yes?" She answered, her hand still on the lamp.

"Leave the light on."


	18. Chapter 18

**Doubletree Hotel – Morning –**

Penelope panicked when she woke up in bed alone. Her hand immediately went to his side of the bed. It was cold. Jumping up she looked around the room there was no noise coming from the bathroom, no sign of Derek. Her mind was flooded with a dozen doom and gloom scenarios. Her imagination was vivid with him being hurt or worse. His phone was still on the nightstand…he never left his phone.

Just as she was about to call the others she heard the door open. The smell of coffee and fresh pastries preceded him as he walked in. He realized the magnitude of his leaving by the wide-eyed look of utter terror on her face. On any other day, him running out for breakfast would have been no big thing, but not now. Suddenly he regretted this simple act.

"Damn it, Derek!"

"What? I'm sorry I…"

"I thought something had happened…that you'd done…"

"He quickly set the drink carrier and bag down and rushed toward her pulling her in a sturdy embrace.

"Whoa, whoa, Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I just wanted to get us something to eat. I wasn't thinking."

She suddenly lost her resolve and began crying against his chest. He held her without saying a word. She'd worried about him for weeks now and she'd reached her limit.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you where I was going. Forgive me?"

She shook her head, yes against his chest and after several more seconds, she pulled away collecting herself and wanting to forget her little outburst.

"I don't know what came over me. I'm fine. You don't need this right now."

"No it's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Derek knew where the conversation was leading and he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to talk about it. Turning he grabbed the coffee and pastries and headed to the small round table on the other side of the room.

"Come on let's eat before Hotch calls us downstairs to head to the police station."

He extended his hand beckoning her over. She joined him as she wiped the remnant of tears from her face. For the next few minutes the couple sat silently eating and drinking. Penelope needed to talk about what was happening with him but she also knew he wouldn't want to talk. Last night had been rough riddled with nightmare after nightmare and neither of them had gotten much sleep.

"Derek we need to talk about what's going on with you."

Derek slowly set his pastry down and wiped his hands on the paper napkin next to him. He couldn't look at her. He didn't want to see the pity in her eyes.

"I don't know if I can."

He'd already shifted in survival mode with his sudden trip to the coffee shop for breakfast. He returned acting as if nothing was going on and using his concern for her as a diversion, but this time she wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily.

"You started to tell me something before we got called away on this case. What was it? I know it has something to do with Carl."

"Penelope, please."

"Derek, talk to me. It won't change how I feel about you. I love you more than I can say and there's nothing that can change that."

"I think you should wait until you hear the truth."

"Nothing, Derek."

"I won't hold you to that."

Penelope gently placed her hand on his and waited for him to speak again. His eyes seemed vacant as he inhaled and began to speak.

"When my father was killed I kind of became this rebellious kid, not bad just…I started running with older boys trying to be grown and I got into some trouble."

He knew she needed to know but he wondered if it would change things between them; if she would still love him like she promised. There was so much to tell, horrible shameful things. Things he'd allowed to happen to him and through his silence had allowed to happen to countless others.

"There was this kid, Rodney…Rodney Harris…"

For the next several minutes Penelope listened and watched Morgan relive the worst times of his young life. She couldn't imagine having endured the nightmare alone believing no one would believe him if he told, believing his pain would be even greater if anyone found out what was happening and worse yet, believing it was his fault and that he somehow deserved what Carl Buford was doing to him.

There was a knock at the door and it was the first time that Garcia realized that she was crying…so was Morgan. Both of them jumped at the sound exchanging curious looks.

"I'll get it." She volunteered.

"No, no get dressed it's probably one of the team letting us know it's time to go back to the station."

She nodded and quickly headed toward the bathroom. The knock came again just as he reached the door. Looking through the peephole Morgan exhaled and slowly opened the door.

"Hotch?"

"Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah…come in."

Hotch stepped inside and waited for Morgan to close the door behind them. He dreaded the conversation they were about to have but he had put it off as long as he could and it would be time to head to the precinct soon.

"We were just having a light breakfast there's an extra Danish if…"

"Morgan we need to talk."

Garcia stepped out of the bathroom to see the two men standing in the middle of the room. The air was thick and she suddenly felt the need to protect Derek. Morgan looked at her and reached for her to join them, which she did without hesitation.

"What's going on Hotch?" She asked.

"Morgan, I'm pulling you from this case…"

"Hotch! I've never been pulled from a case in my life!"

"Well you have now. Go home, talk to somebody, anybody…"

"Please, I know I was out of line yesterday I'll apologize just don't send me home."

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I've been watching you over the last several weeks and something's bothering you and whatever it is you don't trust any of us to tell us to share."

Morgan pulled away from Garcia and moved to the bed sitting and hanging his head in defeat. Garcia shot a glare at her boss as she moved to sit next to Morgan.

"Morgan, I can't have an agent in the field who isn't one hundred percent. It puts us all in danger, you know that."

Morgan didn't answer he just shook his head while Garcia gently placed her arm around him. There was more Hotch needed to say, things that were long overdue and as he watched Morgan struggle he knew this was the time.

"Garcia, can I talk to Morgan alone?"

She looked at Morgan waiting to get his response. He nodded affirmatively and after planting a light kiss on his cheek, Garcia stood and left the room.

"Morgan."

"I get it Hotch I'm a liability. You don't have to explain it any more."

"That's not what I was going to say."

Hotch grabbed the chair nearby and pulled it close to the bed facing Morgan.

"I need you to understand that this is not punishment and I'm not mad at you."

"It feels like you're mad at me."

"I'm worried about you we all are. Believe it or not, it's my job to protect you and I'm sorry I haven't done a very good job of that."

"I don't understand."

"When Cruz sent us here after Chicago, I should have insisted you go home. You're not recovered from your injuries and with what happened to James, you shouldn't be here."

"I need to catch this guy. He deserves to burn in hell for what he's done to those innocent boys."

"We'll catch him. He won't get away with what he did, I promise you."

Hotch stood to leave and just as he got to the door Morgan looked up.

"You know don't you?"

"Know what?"

"Come on Hotch, you're one of the best profilers I know."

Hotch looked away for a second and then back at Morgan.

"I have an idea."

Morgan smirked and shook his head.

"An idea…right."

"Morgan, don't let whatever Carl Buford did to you beat you."

"How do I do that? After all these years…how do I get over it? Now I'm guilty for everyone else Carl hurt! James…he's dead! Did Carl win, huh? Tell me, Hotch did Carl win?"

Hotch watched the tears swim in the man's eyes and his heart broke for his friend a man who was fearless willing to challenge him and his authority regardless of the consequences. Hotch saw the crack in his armor as he struggled to stay on his proverbial feet. He had no words of comfort; no answers to his questions because he couldn't imagine surviving what Morgan had endured as a young boy. Even with his own father's physical abuse against him it didn't make them kindred spirits. He'd heard time and time and again that time heals all wounds. It was a lie, time didn't heal all wounds; Morgan had fought for almost thirty years to keep his secret, to prove his manhood and still he was bleeding, his wounds festering because they'd laid open and undressed simply hiding behind bravado and ego, promiscuity and a silence that now seemed powerful enough to rip the band-aid away revealing his truth and branding him a fraud.

Morgan had fought this battle for too long alone. He needed help someone needed to call in reinforcements because Hotch knew he'd never ask and he'd never admit that he was losing. But he was and now it was time for his family and friends to step in and take up their position on each side holding up his arms and allowing him to rest the weight of his despair against them. After all, he'd done it for each one of them countless times and even in his battered state he'd do it again without a second thought.

He was a hero in need of a hero and they would be that for him. Hotch didn't have to say it, he didn't have to make any declarations of allegiance to their friendship. It was what family did; they took care of each other. Life and secrets had kicked the hell out of him now it was time for his family to put him back together again.


	19. Chapter 19

The drive back to Quantico was uneventful. Garcia had given Derek the keys to Esther and so he did what he'd sworn in the past he'd never do…drive a bright orange Cadillac with the top down alone. It was chilly but he needed the crisp bite of the air against his skin to keep him alert. He hadn't slept well the night before and he was exhausted. Derek dreaded being alone but his thoughts and guilt were more than willing to keep him company.

He pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine. His body was sore and stiff from the drive and now he regretted not taking his pain medication before making the drive from Baltimore. Grabbing his go bag from the back seat he headed toward the front door. Just as he put the key in the lock and turned the knob he realized he had company. Morgan quickly turned to face his visitor. The man who looked not much older than James walked toward him stopping just short of the steps. Morgan noticed the brown envelope in his hand.

"Derek Morgan?"

"That's me."

The man handed the envelope to Derek.

"You've been served."

Reluctantly, he took the envelope from the man's hand and before Morgan could react, the young man disappeared quickly. Stepping inside and closing the door he examined the envelope. It was official looking peaking his curiosity. He had a bad feeling about what he was about to see as he opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. As he read and re-read the document he had a feeling that his nightmare was just beginning.

 **Police Department – Baltimore, MD – Afternoon –**

Penelope kept herself busy with searches but her mind was on Derek. She like the rest of the team had not been fooled by Morgan's desperate attempt to act as if he was fine. He'd quickly said goodbye to them all and headed toward Quantico in Esther earlier that morning. He smiled and kissed her goodbye promising that he was okay yet she saw the pain and remnants of the horror of last's nights nightmares in his face.

Thankfully, the team had been successful in putting together a suspect list and now they'd all split into pairs and began the process of whittling the list of six names down to one. All of them wanted to end this case and get home as soon as possible the thought of another young boy losing his life was unacceptable. The thought of Morgan blaming himself for another lost life was also unacceptable.

 **Home of Derek Morgan – Quantico, VA – Evening –**

He'd read the document at least a dozen times the beer he'd taken from the refrigerator over an hour ago still sat untouched in front of him. His law degree made it easy to understand the severity of a situation that made it important for a processor to serve him at his front door. He was being compelled to appear in court to answer to his roll in the deaths of thirteen young boys over the past eleven years. The word, _'accomplice'_ seemed to standout on the paper mocking him and accusing him of unspeakable crimes. The names of the victims were listed with an asterisk next to the phrase, _et al._

Morgan stood and began pacing the room. It was near nine in the evening and he'd been home for hours now. He hadn't heard from anyone not even Penelope, which meant the case had kept her busy and distracted. It was okay, he was a big boy he could take care of himself… _'and others'_...The words jumped from the page as he picked up the paper and read it again. What others? None of the names listed were familiar to him. None of them had been tied to any of his cases over the years, still somehow he knew who they were. Had someone else uncovered his past? Was there someone looking into his crimes? After all he was duplicitous in Carl's atrocities by remaining silent. He'd fought so hard to keep his past in the past and he'd always wanted to believe he was the only victim of a vile monster. His years as a Chicago Police officer and now FBI profiler had taught him otherwise. His prayers for an exception no doubt unheard and now it was time to pay. He needed confirmation of his suspicions and so, he dialed the only number he knew to dial.

 **Baltimore, MD Police Department –**

Garcia felt guilty for not being able to call earlier. The case had taken an awkward turn with another boy reported missing. The list of possible suspects had now dwindled to two names but she'd barely had time to breathe. So when his name appeared on her cell phone she quickly grabbed it ready with an apology.

"Handsome, I'm so sorry! It's been…"

"Baby Girl, breathe…I need you to check on some names for me."

"Oh, okay…sure…you know you're not supposed to be working, right?"

"Yeah I know and I'm not."

"Then what's going on?"

"I just need you to check the names, okay?"

"Derek Morgan, tell me what this is about!"

She could hear him exhale before responding.

"I've been summoned to a hearing of some sort."

"What?"

"Someone is accusing me of playing a role in the deaths of several young boys over the last eleven years."

"No way!"

"Yeah…and if it's what I think it is, they're right. I am responsible."

"When?"

"I don't know. It says time to be determined later."

"Derek…"

"Not now Garcia. Just please…are you going to help me or not?"

"Give me the names."

Morgan ended the call and several seconds later a list of names were sent to her phone. She wanted more than ever now to be home with him because she knew the names it was the second time today that she'd seen them. Garcia knew that once she confirmed what he probably already suspected it would send him over the edge.

It was almost an hour later when Hotch, Rossi, Reid and JJ returned to the precinct. Garcia breathed a sigh of relief to see her team return and step into the conference room. They'd arrested the killer before he'd had a chance to hurt the latest victim and now they were ready to complete their reports and head home. The timing couldn't have been better.

"Garcia?"

Hotch saw the worry in her eyes. She had something to say.

"It's Morgan."

"What about Morgan?" Reid interrupted.

"He called and wanted me to do a search for him."

"We couldn't have closed this case any sooner. He's going to be pretty messed up when he finds out who those names are." Hotch added.

Garcia turned and approached Hotch entering his personal space and staring deep into his eyes.

"This could destroy Morgan. Are you sure about this?"

Hotch returned her glare never flinching. He debated whether to be irritated for being questioned or to seriously consider her question. The fact was, he wasn't sure but the ball was rolling and he had to see it through. He needed to help a friend, one that had helped him countless times in the past.

"Make the call, Garcia."

That was it. Nothing more needed to be said and she dared not question him again. So nodding she headed back to the conference table and reached for her phone.

 **Home of Derek Morgan –**

 _The knock on the door woke him from his slumber. He didn't remember getting into bed or turning out the lights. The clock on the nightstand blinked brightly announcing that it was four a.m. The knock came again, this time louder and with enough urgency to jerk him to a sitting position. Throwing the covers back Morgan headed toward the front of the house. Just as he reached the door the knock sounded again even louder than the previous two times. Looking through the peephole he was stunned by the familiar figure standing on his porch._

 _"James?"_

 _"Derek…hi…"_

 _"You? You're suppose…I thought…"_

 _Then James was joined by four other young men, each one taking up positions on each side of James._

 _"Can we talk?"_

 _Derek looked at each of the boys, none of this made any sense to him. He wasn't drunk but perhaps he had finally lost his mind. Without waiting for a response, James stepped passed Derek into the house followed by the others._

 _"You're not real, none of you…right? What's going on?"_

 _James turned and looked at his companions smiling and then turning to face Derek._

 _"Don't worry Derek, you're not losing your mind. We just want to talk, that's all."_

 _"Talk? You're dead, James! I saw your body in the morgue! You killed yourself and you left a suicide note!"_

 _"I killed myself? No Derek, I didn't kill myself."_

 _"What?"_

 _"You killed me Derek! You killed all of us!_

 _"No! What are you talking about?"_

 _"Yes, Derek. You killed us! You sentenced us to death the moment you decided to keep your mouth shut!"_

 _"No! I didn't know! I thought I was the only one!"_

 _The room began to spin, slow at first and then faster and faster as the young men moved forming a circle around him. Everywhere he turned he was confronted by a cold dead stare accusing him of crimes he'd accused himself of for the last thirty years._

 _"I didn't know! I didn't know!"_

 _"You have to pay, Derek! It's not fair that you get to live and we didn't! You have to pay!"_

 _Each of the others repeated James' statement. Every word seemed to pierce Morgan to his core as he covered his ears not wanting to hear any more._

 _"You have to pay!"_

 _"You have to pay!"_

 _"You have to pay!"_

 _"STOP!"_

 _"You have to pay!"_

 _"I didn't know!"_

 _"You did this, Derek! How are you going to make it right?"_

Penelope was happy to be home. JJ and Reid dropped her off and waited until she reached the front door and waived goodbye. She'd tried to reach Derek by phone but he didn't answer. She was relieved to see Esther in the driveway and so she figured he had fallen asleep. He hadn't taken the news well about the list of names he'd given her. Even though he had his suspicions hearing the truth seemed to have rocked him. He assured her that he'd be okay but she didn't believe him he was struggling with his guilt and the fact that others had been victimized made things worse. The victims had names and some of them had died at Carl's hands.

 _"I'm sorry, I didn't know…I didn't know!"_

Penelope saw him on the couch. It was a familiar scene one she'd experienced before.

 _"I thought I was the only one!"_

This was worse than last night or any other night for that matter. She rushed to the couch to wake him.

 _"I'm sorry, James…so sorry…I didn't know, I didn't know…I…"_

"Derek!"

 _"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"_

 _James and his friends came closer making the circle smaller. It was hard to breathe and there was no where to run…to escape. They wanted him to pay and no matter what he said they didn't believe him._

 _"You killed us! All of us!"_

 _"No…no…"_

"Derek, Baby, it's okay! Wake up, please! You're safe…you're safe."

He could hear her voice, his solace. She seemed so far away. He needed her. Slowly he opened his eyes she was there with him. How did she know? How did she always know? He opened his eyes.

"Baby Girl?"

"It's me. I'm home."

"I…I didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, you were having a nightmare."

Morgan pulled away slightly looking around the room slightly confused.

"I'm fine. I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Derek…"

He stood running his hand over his head. He wondered what she had heard and what he'd have to explain later.

"I'm fine…uh…did you eat? I can fix you something if you're hungry."

She stood and joined him in the middle of the room. Like earlier he was pretending that everything was okay. Like then, things were not okay.

"No, I'm not hungry. Are you okay?"

"I told you I'm fine. Look I know how it is on these cases. Are you sure you're not hungry? There's some leftovers in the fridge, I'll make us something."

"No, Handsome, I'm good."

"You sure because it's no trouble…"

"Derek, Derek…stop it! "

She grabbed his hands gently holding them firmly in hers until she had his attention.

"Stop, just stop! Talk to me!"

Derek pulled away from her again and began frantically pacing the floor.

"Talk? Talk about what, Garcia? What do you want to talk about; the fact that I'm responsible for the deaths of at least thirteen boys? Or that I'm being forced to justify why I kept my mouth shut while Carl Buford victimized countless other boys like me? I'm guilty! I did it! I have to pay for what I did…or didn't do…"

"You were a boy, Derek! Carl Buford's crimes are not your crimes!"

"Then why?"

He grabbed the crumpled paper that he'd discarded on the chair near by and began shaking it in his hand. She approached him again taking the paper and smoothing it out and reading it for herself.

"I don't know why, Handsome but you've got to face this!"

"Why so everybody can know what I did, what happened to me? NO! I can't do this! I don't want to see the looks and the pity and…and the questions…"

"What questions?"

"The why's! How could I have let it happen? How could I let Carl touch me and…"

Morgan turned and headed toward the kitchen grabbing a bottle of Jack from the cabinet then a small glass from another pouring himself a glass and downing it as she entered the room. She watched him pour another and another before she stopped him with her hand on his and taking the bottle from him.

"Derek you need to listen to me."

"Garcia, I can still feel his hands on me…in that cabin and at the community center in his office. All those years ago I still smell his cologne and that feeling of not being able to breathe…it's too much!"

Garcia slowly approached and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her. He stiffened at first than almost immediately relaxed as she tightened her grip around him. He buried his head in her hair and she could feel his body trembling against her.

"I should have stopped him! I should have told someone…it's my fault…James is dead and it's my fault" He whispered through his tears.

Garcia was at a loss for words and she could feel him breaking piece by piece in her arms. She needed him to hold on just a while longer but she wondered if he could. He needed them now and she prayed as tears ran down her face.

 _"Hang on Baby Boy, hang on."_ She thought to herself. _"Dear God, let Hotch be right, I'm begging you! Because he can't take much more."_


	20. Chapter 20

**Home of Derek Morgan – Morning –**

He hadn't slept. He couldn't. The thought of being accused of playing a part in the death of thirteen boys was unsettling. How would he defend himself against such charges? One could make a strong case against him with so many victims who'd come after him. He'd never imagined that there could be others like him; young boys terrorized, humiliated and shamed by Carl Buford. Derek had believed the older man's assessment that he'd brought it on himself. Carl would tell him each time they were together that Derek wanted what was happening and that he should feel proud to be chosen by him. Thinking about it now suddenly made him sick to his stomach.

Penelope was exhausted. Neither one of them had slept with Derek battling his demons well into the early morning. She turned over watching as he jumped from the bed and rushed to the bathroom. The clock on the nightstand blinked seven a.m. and her pursuit of sleep would have to wait until later. So, she pulled herself from the warm bed and made her way to the kitchen. She started the coffee going and began busying herself making breakfast for the two of them. She heard the shower running and she knew it wouldn't be long before he rounded the corner. Her cell rang and she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her friend's name flashing on the screen.

"JJ! Good morning."

"Hey, is everything okay?"

JJ heard the tension in Garcia's voice. She already knew the answer to her question.

"No, no JJ everything isn't okay. He didn't sleep last night. Every time he closed his eyes…JJ it was awful. I'm not sure this is going to work."

"Hang in there, Garcie. It'll work…it has to work."

"Derek is strong, the strongest person I know but I'm not sure if he can take this."

"You know him better than any of us. How many times has he been there for all of us?"

"Too many to count."

"Well now we have to be there for him."

"But what if he doesn't want our help? I mean he's kept this secret for so long. His family didn't even know."

"Well, they know now; we all know. It's time he faces this head on."

"I hope you're right. I love him JJ and it's killing me to see him in so much pain."

"I know but he needs you now more than ever before."

He couldn't seem to get the water hot enough to wash away the memory of Carl's touch. He scrubbed and scrubbed his skin was red and raw but Carl's hand print still felt heavy against his flesh. He thought he'd buried it all tucked away in a dark space in his mind. He'd gone on with his life and had done well for himself leaving his past and the old neighborhood behind. He'd managed to keep his family safe after his father's death and convinced himself that the price he paid was necessary. No one knew, no one. For so long he thought he wore some sort of brand that gave away his secret but after a while, graduating from college and law school he'd dismissed that notion. His accomplishments and occasional happy moments had never been sabotaged by the truth and Carl had kept his distance even when Derek was in Chicago on business or for a visit. But know things had changed, someone knew. Someone had decided to come hunting for him ready to collect on a debt he owed for his survival.

She was waiting for him in the kitchen worrying and pretending not to be but she never could hide her feelings from him just like he couldn't hide his from her. She looked up and handed him a cup of coffee, the sadness in her eyes giving her away. He could smell the food from the other side of the house and he was reminded how much he loved her.

"Sit breakfast is ready."

"Thank you Baby Girl. I'm not…"

"Don't!"

She raised her hand to silence him and he raised his in surrender taking a seat at the table.

"I know you're not hungry but you need to at least try to eat something."

Derek nodded and took the plate from her hand and waited for her to join him with her plate in her other hand. She was beautiful even without makeup and she was much too good for him. With all that was happening he knew that now more than ever.

"Thank you."

There were no thanks needed from him. So, without responding she took a small sip of coffee and softly looked at him from across the table.

"Rough night."

It wasn't a question as much as it was a statement of fact.

"Yeah. I'm sorry for keeping you awake. Maybe I should stay in the guest room tonight…"

"Like hell you will, Derek Morgan! I'm here for you."

"I know you are."

"Besides, we're off for the next few days and we can both try and get some rest."

"I won't hold my breath on that one. With this inquiry hanging over my head I won't get much sleep until it's all over."

"I'm sorry you're going through this Derek."

Again he shook his head and made an attempt to eat. He loved her breakfasts and he only wished that he had an appetite to really appreciate her efforts. She mimicked his actionss and began picking at the eggs and turkey bacon on her plate.

"So what are your plans for the day?" She asked.

"I think I'll work out in the garage. I have projects I need to finish up for my Baker street house. What about you?"

"JJ wants to go to the spa but I can stay if…"

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Please, don't…don't do that."

"What?"

"This is the reason I didn't want you or anyone to know."

"Derek…"

"No. I'm fine! I can't take the pity, the walking on eggshells…the looks and questions that everyone is afraid to ask! I can't do this, Garcia!"

Dropping his fork in his plate and tossing his napkin on the table he stood angrily pacing the floor.

"I'm sorry! It's just…I don't know what to say or do that will make this all better! You know me, Derek! I have to make things better! It's who I am! Pity? No I don't pity you! I love you and…and admire you for being strong beyond anything that makes any sense…"

"Strong?" He turned to face her. "Strong? Penelope, I'm a fucking coward! I let other boys become victims of a man I knew was a monster! A pedophile! I kept my mouth shut!"

"Derek, baby…"

She stood and approached him cautiously placing her hand on his forearm. He was trembling and using every ounce of his strength to maintain control.

"NO! No! I should have told someone, anyone…I didn't think they'd believe me…he said no one would believe me…"

He pulled away from her roughly startling her. She watched motionless and in shock as he bolted from the room and out the door into the garage. Her heart told her to go after him but her mind forced her to leave him alone and to allow him the space and time he needed. She felt her heart break. When it came to him she didn't know how to be still or silent. She loved him more than she thought possible but she was powerless to make things better…to take away what had happened before they'd met and powerless to save him from himself.

He'd hurt her…with his words and his actions. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do. The rage was not for her it was for him, his life; the lies the pain and the fear. The fear that had crippled him and made him weak and had made him a fraud. It was why he would deny being a hero when she spoke of him being one and it was why he ran from gentleness and the care of others. He wasn't deserving of kindness…he knew what he had done in secret. He was dirty and vile just like the man who'd trapped him in that cabin and whispered his intentions and showed him what it felt like when you let down your guard and allowed yourself to trust.

He stood against the farthest wall for what seemed like forever. He heard the front door close then the heavy engine of Esther start up. He pushed her away maybe for the last time. Who would blame her she didn't deserve a broken man like him. She could do so much better. Then he moved to the cluttered workbench it was so symbolic of what his life had become. Bits and pieces of wood, and tools, nails and screws all lying idle with no purpose unless they were connected something. Then he saw the rope tucked in the corner of the workbench nearly hidden by his assortment of power tools. Pushing his way past the clutter he pulled it from its hiding place. Slowly he began to unwind it from it's large spool a little at a time; inch by inch. No, he didn't deserve Penelope or any of his family and friends. He'd fooled them all with his bravado and eagerness to run into danger keeping them from having to do the same. He continued to unravel the rope until half of it was pooled at his feet.

 _"You need to pay for what you've done! You killed us! It's your fault! Your fault…your…"_

 _"DEREK! NO!"_

 _He saw his body laying on the floor and an all too familiar blank stare looking back at him piercing him accusingly, lips ashy and blue. Her screams rang out behind him just as he crossed over beyond no return. Again he'd shown his cowardice, his need to run away, refusing to hold himself accountable for his sins._

 _"Derek! How could you? Why?"_

 _Her voice trembled as she pleaded for an answer she would never get. He was a scoundrel because now she would be forever haunted, blaming herself for not being able to change his mind or reach him in time. This wasn't an act of love or fatigue it was easy, pedestrian, cruel. Cruel because his mother would always ask why and wonder why she hadn't seen the signs. After all, she'd been a nurse for thirty years…she should have known, should have insisted he get help._

 _"Derek?"_

 _He wanted to take it back, wanted to pretend the thoughts had never entered his mind but his body lying lifeless on the floor spoke to who he really was. It screamed from the dark chambers of hell that he had been a fraud, a murderer of children by proxy…and he deserved to die but not like this! Not at his own hands…NO…He deserved a jury of his peers, a jury of parents who'd been forced to bury their sons because he would not save them with his voice, his testimony of his shame and the pain he'd endured at the hands of a monster who'd once whispered in his ear that he loved him while he violated his small body. He wasn't the only one, which meant he wasn't special. There were others, before and others after…all of which would meet him in hell…ready to strangle him and beat him all over again._

"Derek? Derek! DEREK!"

He turned to look her in the face and for a brief moment he didn't recognize her and he didn't know where he was. Then the haze disappeared and he was present again standing at the cluttered workbench. This was the place where he found distraction after rough cases, the noise of power tools blocking the thoughts of death and evil from his mind. Working with his hands, pounding nails and knocking down walls forced him to focus, and daydream on what would become of his handiwork.

"Yeah…Yeah…"

"Where'd you go?"

"No where."

"I called your name three times…"

"I'm sorry…I was just…"

She watched him worriedly from the doorway. His hands were trembling and he seemed a million miles away. She'd made up her mind to leave and join JJ but after a block away she had to turn back. No matter what he said or did she couldn't leave things the way she had before he stormed out of the kitchen. Seeing him now she was glad she did.

He watched her take the steps to close the gap between them. He needed to apologize and tell her that she did not deserve his anger. The tears streaming down her face were his doing so before she could say a word, he pulled her against his body and held her tightly. She was his lifeline. She was his anchor and things were rocky without her this he couldn't deny. He pulled away slightly and brushed a few stray hairs from her face looking deeply into her eyes and waiting for just the right moment.

"I was wrong. You didn't deserve that…"

"Derek…"

"No, please let me finish."

She nodded and waited.

"I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you, do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Please, I'm so sorry. I know I don't have the right to ask but please don't give up on me."

"Never, Baby Boy. Never."

Then the buzzing of his cell phone pulled them from the moment. Digging it from his pocket he looked puzzled at the unknown number. She watched him as he answered wondering if it were more bad news.

"Your inquiry begins tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp….and Agent Morgan, don't be late!"


	21. Chapter 21

**Home of Derek Morgan – Next Morning-**

"Come on Handsome, if we don't leave now we're going to be late."

It had been another sleepless night for both of them. Derek had once again been plagued by nightmares and she'd spent the night helping him wrestle demons to no avail. Yesterday's phone call had sent him spiraling into a quiet distracted place and he'd walked through the rest of the day on autopilot. She was glad that she'd come back to talk it out with him instead of going to the spa. When she found him in the garage he seemed a million miles away.

 _"I know I don't deserve to ask, but please don't give up on me."_

The desperation in his voice still resonated in her ears. She'd never heard it before and she'd never seen the dark far away look in his eyes before either. Of course she wouldn't give up on him, she loved him too much to ever consider that. Today would be a test of that resolve and promise to him.

Morgan buttoned the last two buttons of his shirt and grabbed his wallet and phone sliding them both in his pockets. He didn't want to go but he had no choice. He had no idea who was behind this inquiry or who outside of his team knew the details of his life. He felt panicked as he reached the front of the house where Penelope waited patiently for him.

 **Federal Building- FBI Headquarters – 1 hour later -**

"Listen to me, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens we'll get through this, okay?'

He shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand as they headed down the hallway toward room 1106. He'd been in this room before. It was the place where the team had been questioned after Ian Doyle's death. His stomach was in knots and the air seemed heavier, thicker suddenly. This was his day of reckoning and if he didn't know better he swore he could hear bells chiming in the distance. Maybe it was just his sanity finally slipping away. If that were true he prayed that somehow beyond sanity he would find peace.

"Agent Morgan?"

Derek and Penelope turned to face a small-framed woman dressed in a standard bureau business suit.

"Yes?"

"I'm Agent Arthur and I'll be serving as the clerk for today's proceedings."

"Okay? Can you tell me what this is all about?"

"We'll be starting in about ten minutes. I'm sure all of your questions will be answered at that time."

"Right, right."

"If you would both wait here, I'll come and get you shortly."

Without waiting for further response Agent Arthur turned on her heels and headed down the hallway. The two watched as the woman disappeared through another doorway. Derek began to pace nervously with his hands shoved in his pocket. He had no idea what awaited him inside the room.

A few minutes later the door opened and Agent Arthur appeared and ushered them inside. The room was empty and chilly. Like several years ago, there was a long panel of chairs on an elevated platform with nameplates mounted on the front and facing on the floor level was a long table with several chairs lined up side by side. Then there was a typical courtroom galley behind swinging doors.

"Agent Morgan, you can take a seat here at the table and Ms. Garcia if you just take a seat her in the galley I'll go get the others."

Agent Arthur pointed to the seats and left the room. Morgan glanced back at Penelope who was seated in the first row directly behind him.

"It's going to be okay, Handsome. I'm here, right here."

Morgan shook his head and turned to face the empty panel just as three women and two men entered and took the seats in the panel. Agent Arthur followed taking a seat at a small desk nearby.

"Shall we begin?"

The woman's nameplate read, "Dr. Amira Alves." The others nodded agreement.

"Good morning Agent Morgan…"

"Good morning."

"I'm sure you are wondering why you've been called here today."

"Yes, Ma'am I am."

"Please rest assured that it is not a legal proceeding in the traditional sense but some information has come to our attention here at the bureau that we need to address."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"On your initial application with the FBI many years ago, you did not indicate that you have a criminal record."

"No Ma'am."

"You are aware that any false statements or omissions could result in your dismissal, agent."

"Yes, but my record was expunged…it no longer existed when I applied to the FBI."

"Agent Morgan, these charges were…are very serious."

"My record…doesn't exist!"

"Agent Morgan do you know Carl Buford?"

The white-haired man, Russell Beard looked familiar to Derek. He was on the last panel during the Ian Doyle investigation. He'd been very quiet and seemed the least hostile toward the team.

"Yes Sir, I do."

"He was killed in our last case. We discovered that he'd been molesting young boys under his care at the community center in Chicago."

"A community center that you frequented as a young boy, is that correct?"

Derek felt the temperature begin to rise in the room as he fidgeted slightly in his chair.

"Yes, that's correct."

A red-headed older woman leaned into her microphone to speak next.

"Agent, were you a victim of Carl Buford?"

"What does that have to do with…?"

"Please just answer the question. Carl Buford left a legacy of abuse and even death. We want to know if you had anything to do with it."

"If I had anything to do with it? Are you serious?"

Derek felt Penelope's hand on his shoulder as she leaned over the rail to remind him that he was not alone. Her heart broke for him as he sat enduring the pain of his childhood secrets in front of strangers.

"We're not accusing you, Agent…"

"But it sounds like you may be accusing yourself, Agent."

It was the first time the youngest of the panelist had spoken. His nameplate read, "Jamal Henson, MD." He was also the only African American on the panel.

"What?" Derek responded breathlessly.

"I said, it sounds like you may be accusing yourself."

"Accusing myself…of what?"

"Of what happened after you…after you left Chicago and went on with your life."

"Look, man you don't know me!"

"I think I do. You chose law enforcement especially the BAU to make up for your past…"

"Just stop. I don't understand what this has to do with why we're here today."

"There were at least thirteen other victims after you left for college." The redhead added.

"What are you saying?"

"What do you think I'm saying, agent?"

"I thought I was the only one…he told me I was his favorite…"

"That's what he told the others too." Jamal interrupted.

Morgan felt the sweat on his forehead. He felt nauseated and he wanted to run but the weight of his body seemed to be too heavy to move. He watched as suddenly, Jamal stood and descended the three steps and approached the table where Derek sat. The looming figure of the man slightly leaning over the table caused Derek to lean back to create some space between them.

"That's what he told me!"

"Wh-What?"

"Yeah. After you left for college, Carl turned his eye to me. He said I was going to be his next star…he was going to make me even better than the great Derek Morgan."

"I'm so sorry, man…I-I didn't know…I-I-…"

"He took me to his cabin…that's when it really started…that's when he…"

Jamal stood straight closing his eyes to gather himself and to shake the memory of his time with Carl. Derek watched the man who seemed a few years younger than he was. He was distinguished looking and according to his title he was successful too.

"I got out of the neighborhood thanks to Carl but it came with a price. I kept my mouth shut…he was helping me…yeah, I thought I had to keep my mouth shut all the while my life was hell…he did things to me, Agent…just like he did to you!"

Derek dropped his head shielding his face with his hands as he wept. The mask that had been erected by his pride was no longer able to hide his shame and humiliation. He owed this man…Jamal more than an apology…he owed him his life.

Then he felt a heavier hand on his shoulder replacing the smaller lighter one that eased away. The room was silent except for his sobs that bounced off the walls echoing his agony and his truth.

"I'm sorry…it's my fault…I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault, Derek. Just like I wasn't the first, you weren't the first. None of us is to blame for the other's abuse, do you hear me Derek?"

"I was so scared…everybody loved Carl…no one would have believed me…he said he'd hurt me and my family…and…"

"…And you'd go to jail, right?"

Derek looked up, his face wet with tears. He was surprised that Jamal was crying too.

"Yeah, Gordinski suggested I go see Carl after I got into trouble. Me and my friend accidentally broke Old man Winter's window…he called the police and we got arrested." Jamal continued.

Their stories were so familiar. Gordinski and Buford had made a life of preying on the poor boys of his neighborhood. Derek was just one of many who'd had too much time on their hands being raised by single mothers who had no choice but to leave their children on their own and pray that they'd be okay when they returned from work each night.

"Did you tell?" Derek asked.

Jamal looked down at the distraught man.

"Not until now."

 **Reminder: Deadline for the Profiler Choice Awards 2016 is December 31, 2016 11;50 EDT! For more information:**

topic/197180/156102253/1/Profiler-s-Choice-Awards-2016


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note:** Thanks to all of you who nominated this story for **Best Angst** in the 2016 Profilers Choice Awards. Thanks also to everyone who nominated me as **Best Reviewer.** I am truly humbled and honored by your support and nominations. Best wishes to all of the amazing writers who have been nominated as well! Good luck to you all!

Now, the final chapter of, When Truth Comes Knocking…Enjoy!

 _"Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth." Buddha_

##

Morgan stood shaking looking at his ragged reflection in the mirror. He'd sought refuge in the men's room locking the door behind him. He couldn't get the water cold enough to wash away the sting of being exposed and reminded of his sins. His knuckles were white as he clung desperately to the small porcelain basin remembering the prayers of his youth. He'd prayed that he was the only one; the only one chosen by Carl…but he wasn't the only one…not by a long shot. He couldn't ignore Jamal's admission and resemblance. His old mentor had a type… suddenly, his stomach wretched sending him spiraling toward the sink.

There was a knock at the door…a banging…a persistent demand for entrance. Morgan grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried his face and hands. Taking another glance at his reflection he grimaced as he headed toward the door. His hands were still shaking even as he unlocked and opened the door. Her terrified eyes and tear stained face met him in anticipation of a sign that told her that he was okay.

"I'm fine…really I'm okay."

He'd read her mind.

"I was worried…"

"Don't. I don't want you worrying about me." He stepped around her and whispered. _"I'm not worth it."_

"Derek, talk to me."

"I just want this to go away…"

Penelope gently pulled him into her arms. Derek wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the side of her neck. This is where he felt safe, here in her arms. She'd saved him so many times before…she had no idea…

"Agent Morgan?"

Reluctantly, the pair pulled apart to face Agent Arthur.

"It's time."

Morgan shook his head and grabbed Penelope's hand. The two followed the woman back to the room. The walk down the hallway seemed even longer this time.

"Agent Morgan, feeling better?"

"Can we just get this over with?"

"Agent, I know this is unpleasant but we have important business to settle…" Dr. Alves began.

"Look, I know it's my fault that the other boys, including Dr. Henson were victimized by Carl Buford. I should have told someone…I know that…"

"Agent Morgan…" Jamal interrupted.

"I'm sorry…I don't know how to make it right." Morgan continued. "If there's a punishment for what I did or didn't do, I'll take it. I thought it was only me, that I had to keep my mouth shut or…"

"Or what?" Dr. Alves asked.

Morgan looked down at his hands that were folded across the table.

"That you'd lose everything you were gaining, right?" Jamal asked.

Morgan shook his head, yes keeping his focus on his hands. Then the door opened drawing everyone's attention to the main entrance of the room. Morgan froze then closed his eyes fighting back tears as Jan Barfield entered.

 _"Oh my god."_ Morgan whispered under his breath.

Jan took the empty chair to Morgan's left and glanced at the man who had been a friend and mentor to her late son. He couldn't look at her she watched as he broke in front of her. His lips moved but no words came. She felt her own tears as her own emotions welled up inside her. She felt him jump as she placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

"I don't blame you." She whispered.

She wasn't sure if he'd heard her as tears continued to fall from his eyes.

"Did you hear me? I don't blame you. I know you cared about my son…"

"My…fault…my…"

"No. No it wasn't. Carl Buford hurt my son, not you Agent Morgan. James kept his pain locked up inside but I know he didn't blame you either."

"I let him down. I was too busy to talk…I wasn't there when he needed to talk and I promised him that…"

"He knew you were there for him, Derek."

"But…"

"No but's. James…he just go tired, that's all. Buford started contacting him, taunting him and he just got tired."

"I'm so sorry…I'm…"

Then she gently placed her hand on his face and turned him to face her.

"Hang on, Derek…don't you get tired, you hear me? You hang in there, please. If you get tired, if you give up, then my son's life and all the other boys that Carl hurt…their lives and their pain will all be in vain."

Derek was overcome but he shook his head to let her know that he understood. Penelope placed both hands on his shoulders praying that she could share her life force with him in that moment.

"We're not here to condemn you, Agent Morgan." Sen. Beard began. "We're here to help you."

"What?"

Derek slowly raised his head and looked toward the panel. All of them were shaking their heads in agreement.

"I-I-I don't understand…"

"This panel…all of us are experts in the field of child abuse, counseling, social services or…" Then casting a look at Jamal. "Or are victims of abuse."

As if on cue the door opened again and Morgan stood as he saw his entire team enter led by his mother and two sisters. He saw their tears, even Hotch…he hadn't seen his boss cry since Hailey's death.

Fran rushed to her son and quickly wrapped her arms around him. Overcome with emotion, Penelope stood next to mother and son. While holding his mother with one arm he pulled Penelope close to his side.

Then suddenly finding strength from an invisible source Fran pulled away from Derek and waited for him to look at her.

"Derek…I'm so sorry for what happened to you and if anyone is to blame it's me. I sent you to that monster, I insisted you go to the Community Center and I…"

"No! NO! No! It's not your fault. How could you have known?"

"I'm your mother…"

"Ma, unless you have some super powers that I don't know about, you couldn't have known!"

"The only person to blame is Carl Buford." Said Hotch "And as long as we continue to take on his guilt and continue to make ourselves responsible for his actions then he wins."

"Hotch, come on…"

"No, he's right Handsome, you've been carrying around this guilt and shame for too long. We needed you to know…"

"We? What are you talking about, _we_?"

"Well…I…uh…"

"Garcia?" He began bewildered. "What's going on? What is this? Did you have something to do with this?"

"Baby… we were worried about…"

Morgan pulled away from Penelope and his mother and began looking around at the faces of his family and friends. They were all in cahoots; they'd all known about everything. He didn't know whether to be angry or feel betrayed. He needed air…he needed to sit.

"Why?" He whispered. "Why would you do this? No one was supposed to know…"

"We all know, Morgan. After this last case it was impossible not to know…Rossi began."

"And we know you. We knew you'd blame yourself. It was already destroying you." Reid added."

Then Desiree, Morgan's youngest sister approached standing behind him wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You've always been my hero, big brother; you still are. You're all of our hero and…"

"And now it's time we become yours."

Sarah interrupted as she stepped in front of her brother dropping to her knees in front of him.

 **1 Year Later…**

 **Crestview Cemetery – Chicago, Illinois – Morning –**

Derek pulled his jacket close to his body shielding himself from the crisp Chicago wind. It had been a year since he'd been in the city. His job had kept him busy and had even forced him to cancel his yearly visit for his mother's birthday. Now here he stood alone looking down on the headstone of James Barfield. His heart ached still dealing with the dread and feeling that he had failed the young man.

"Derek Morgan."

He turned toward the familiar voice behind him and smiled then turning back toward the grave.

"I heard you were in town. I knew I'd find you here."

"Mrs. Barfield…"

"Jan, please. We've gone through too much to stand on formalities, don't you think?"

"Yes we have, _Jan._ "

"That's better."

"It's good seeing you again."

She smiled and nodded joining him as they both looked upon the site where her son's body lay.

"A lot has happened this past year." She began.

"Yeah, you can say that again." He chuckled nervously.

"I'm a grandmother now."

"What?"

Morgan turned to look at the woman. He saw joy in her eyes at she seemed to draw pleasure from his surprise.

"Shortly after I got back from Quantico I learned that a young lady was pregnant by my son. He met her in college and had brought her home for Thanksgiving and Christmas." Jan chuckled before continuing. "He always insisted that they were just, _friends_ , but it seemed they were a little more than that."

"James…a father…"

"He's a splitting image of James…it's almost scary. His mother is a lovely girl…named him James, Jr."

"Congratulations! I can see the happiness in your eyes."

"Just when I didn't think good could come out of this whole mess."

"Yeah."

The two stood in silence for several minutes before either spoke again.

"So, how are you, Derek…really?"

He smiled and glanced at the woman and back at the grave.

"I'm better. I've been in counseling for almost a year now and things are better."

She looked at him not quite convinced. He felt her staring and he smiled, this time more easily.

"Sure about that?"

"I'm sure. For the first time in my life I feel like I'm winning. It's getting easier to breathe and not despise myself when I look in the mirror."

"Good. You keep it up. Nobody expects it all to go away over night."

Derek shook his head. He knew she was right. He felt comfortable standing there with her he'd often wondered what would happen should he see her again. He saw her strength and compassion where he expected to see anger and blame. For that he was grateful.

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"So, have you married that beautiful blonde yet?"

Derek laughed as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm working on it."

"Don't let her get away. She's a keeper."

"Don't worry, I won't. I honestly don't know why she sticks around she could do so much better."

"You ask too many questions, Derek." Jan nudged his arm playfully. "You're a good man, Derek Morgan and that woman loves you. That's all that matters."

"Thank you…for everything."

"No thanks necessary."

Jan turned back to face her son's grave again. The next few minutes were again spent in silence. This time Derek spoke first.

"It's getting late, I better get going my mother will send out a search party if I'm late for dinner."

"Don't keep your mother waiting."

"Hey, would you like to join us?"

"Well…"

"Ma makes the best veal Parmesan in the world."

"Are you sure?"

"Knowing my mother she's made enough for an army. She'd love to have you."

"In that case, I'd love to have dinner with you and your family."

 **2 Days Later…**

 **Washington, DC- Airport -**

Penelope smiled as she watched him step off the plane. He seemed lighter, happier and she knew that he needed this trip more than he wanted to admit. He smiled as he rushed toward her grabbing her with one arm while carefully balancing a familiar package in the other.

"Hmmm…peaches!"

"Ma sent you some cobbler, Baby Girl."

"Yay!" She giggled just before planting a kiss on his lips. "Welcome home Baby boy! I missed you."

"I missed you too, Sweetness!"

The two headed toward baggage claims hand in hand. Visiting James' gravesite and talking to his mother seemed to have given him a new lease on life. He'd put in a lot of work over that past year but still felt as if there were times when he was struggling. He still blamed himself and those were the times when he challenged his therapist the most. He'd welcomed those times especially now that he was a willing participant. No longer did Hotch have to threaten him with suspension or termination in order to get him to take the steps to get help. Derek had begun to let down the walls and allow his team and his family in, trusting them enough to be vulnerable. Penelope was still his solace and his rock and he was thankful for her in his life. He still didn't understand why she loved him but Jan's words rang in his ears and he held them close to his heart. Penelope loved him and it didn't have to make sense. She was everything he needed and she was proof that life was good. He loved her and couldn't see a future without her in his life. She'd always called him her hero but she'd saved him far too many times to count.

He was free; free of Carl Buford's hold. He learned through the caring acts of his family and friends that he was loved and revered. They'd taken a huge risk a year ago but somehow thought he was worth the risk and now as a result Derek could walk forward without having to look over his shoulder wondering if his secrets were safe and being afraid that if they all found out what he was and what he had done they'd see him different and blame him like he blamed himself. He was thriving now and he was happy and as he glanced over at Penelope he knew without a doubt that his future was bright.

THE END…

 _"I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out." ― Ally Carter, Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover._


End file.
